The Boys of Hetalia High
by walroose
Summary: Oneshot-like chapters from the POV of many different characters that will tell the story of their senior year in high school! AU, many pairings listed inside. T for language and just to be safe. Romance, humor, friendship, fluff! Better summary inside.
1. Senior Year Beings! : America

I wanted to write an even more light-hearted and fluffy story than usual, and here's what I've come up with! Hope you're all interested! It'll be simply oozing with fun, cheesy, sweet moments, and PLENTY of fluff. Trust me. xD I'm going to say now that **Hetalia's not owned by me**, and if I forget to put that in the individual chapters, then forgive me. I think we're all aware of the fact anyways! Let's go!

Hetalia High is a place where teenage boys, representing the nations of the world, gather to learn, live, and grow together. The following chapters will be chronicling various adventures in their high school lives; both ordinary and less ordinary. These boys will be dealing with love, loss, friendships, and all the other pains and joys of being a teenager. America will serve as the main character, but POV will change to other characters for different themes and stories.

Though _most_ of these stories will be able to stand alone like oneshots (ranging from 1,000 to 3,000+ words!), they will still be related to one another, some more so than others. They WILL be in chronological order. And they will, in some way or another, be forming a cohesive storyline of Alfred's high school experience.

I'll list all my favorite pairings, since these are the major ones I'll be using. If a chapter has a heavy dose of any particular pairing, it will be included in the first Author's Note. Skip anything you don't like, I won't be offended, and it probably won't affect your understanding of the story much! xD

US x UK, Germany x Italy, Sweden x Finland, Spain x Romano, Prussia x Canada, Greece x Japan, Russia x China, Denmark x Norway, and maybe some of France x Anyone Who Will Give Him the Time, and a few mentions of others, but more minor.

Let's begin!

* * *

**This imaginary school is going to be very similar to, surprise, MY school (in my mind, at least). So it won't seem like a typical private school, because I happen to go to a very public institution. xD **

**Chapter Pairings: None.**

**1. Senior Year Begins! (America)**

* * *

_After today, I'll no longer be just Alfred F. Jones. Starting right now, I'll be known as _America!

America stepped through the front doors of Hetalia High School for Boys and took a deep breath. He was finally here! The best private high school in the world, and he'd somehow made it in. True, he hadn't made it as a freshman…or a sophomore, or even junior, in fact. But he hadn't given up, and all of that occasionally annoying persistence of his had finally paid off! He had made it onto the wait list and had finally snagged a spot here just before senior year started.

Now he was standing in the foyer of the school he'd dreamed about since he was a kid, and everything was just so…so…

Normal? Sure, he'd seen pictures of the school in brochures and online, but in real life it seemed like a regular high school. Actually, considering its prestige, it looked surprisingly similar to his old public school.

He cocked his head to one side and considered the wide open space before him. There was a slightly worn staircase, leading up to the second level, directly in front of him and a smaller set of stairs on his right, which went to the basement. It was a three-level brick building, but only two stories were above ground. It had a courtyard and a library, both near the center of the school. It had a gym and an athletic Field House, which was really just a fancy word for another gym. There was also a nice theatre, which served as auditorium for the school but which was often rented out for other productions. And it was just…normal.

It wasn't quite what he'd imagined, but somehow, it was much more comfortable than the image he'd had in his head of stone walls and gargoyles and dungeons. It really did feel like a regular school, and it was… kind of nice, to be perfectly honest. It made everything seem so much more real and told America that this was no ordinary private school filled with snobby or rich kids. He smiled, happy to be there, and took another few seconds to look around again.

"Come on, dude, move it!" someone from a few feet behind him shouted.

America realized that he was blocking the front entrance as he examined his surroundings, and that a line had formed behind him, waiting for him to move. "Sorry!" he said, stepping to the side. He tried to look embarrassed and sheepish, though on the inside he felt anything but, and he apologized as the boys walked past. The group responded that it wasn't a big deal, and went by without another word. All except one, that is.

"Noob," a white-haired kid whispered as he passed. America blinked in surprise, and was about to say something back to the kid, but before he could the boy shouted, "See ya 'round, America!" and shot him a grin over his shoulder. It looked as though he'd only been giving America a hard time, and no harm had been done, and America mentally shrugged it off. The boy had red eyes, and he wondered vaguely if he was albino.

However, the indistinct feeling of curiosity was nothing compared to the happiness he felt at being recognized by the name 'America'. He'd been careful and done some research online before coming anywhere near this school, and one of the more interesting things he'd found out was about the unique way in which Hetalia High students identified with each other.

Students from all around the world attended this high school, and part of the customary uniform was a small flag, representing the student's country of origin, embroidered just below the breast pocket of his blazer. Using these flags as reference, it had been a long-standing custom for the boys of Hetalia High to call each other by country name, especially while in the school building. As far as America had understood, it wasn't uncommon to call your friends by their real names when in the dorms or off campus, but in school it would be appropriate for only the most intimate of relationships.

This information had been hard to come by, because there seemed to be an unspoken rule stating that it was taboo to tell outsiders about the tradition. But America had made the effort and dug through some forums, articles, and blogs and had pieced together this explanation. And the white-haired kid had proved him right!

He simply glowed as he followed the small group of boys across the foyer and up the main staircase, ready for the day to truly begin. _My first day at Hetalia High!_

It was, quite possibly, the first time he'd been truly excited about school.

…

America's first day at school was a complete success, in that he probably learned more in one day than he would in a week at his old school. But it wasn't only academics that he was studying.

He had been helplessly lost on his way to his second class when a boy with bushy eyebrows and messy blonde hair asked him what room he was looking for. America, somewhat relieved, told him and followed him halfway across the school before they came upon the right class.

"Thanks, man, I never would've found it on my own," America said, glad that he wouldn't be late on his first day. Then, wanting to show off that he knew _something_ about the school, he deliberately checked the flag on the other kid's uniform. "See ya later, UK," he said, choosing what he thought would be the most PC term.

"England, actually," the boy responded. "I prefer England." The tone of his voice made it clear to America that this was a touchy subject and he'd do well to not forget.

"Oh? Then maybe I should tell _you_ that I prefer America to US," he replied, but playfully, trying to keep the conversation going.

England's lips twitched into something that kind of resembled a smile. "I'll remember that. Well, I'll see you around, then, _America_." He took a step back from the classroom that indicated he was going to go, but America made a decision at the last second.

"Uh, listen, since I'm new and don't know anyone yet, would you…I mean, wanna sit together at lunch?"

England didn't take long to give him an answer. "Sure. I'll meet you in the cafeteria later."

"Awesome! Later, then, and thanks!"

England smiled slightly again and gave him a tiny nod before turning down the hallway to his own class. "Good luck finding your way to you next class!" He called back over his shoulder after he'd gone a few feet, with only a hint of teasing sarcasm in his voice.

America gave him a little wave in acknowledgement and continued to watch him for a few seconds, feeling pretty good. Maybe he'd even made a friend on his first day. He hoped so. He was a loud and easy-going guy, so it wasn't hard for him to make friends, but it was hard to find friends _worth_ having. With any luck, this England was a good catch.

…

After that, the rest of his day was relatively uneventful. After all, the first day of classes is always easy. He had lunch with England and they got on together pretty well. It was clear from the outset that England felt comfortable enough around America to tease him and make jokes at his expense even though they'd just met, which suited America fine. They made plans to meet for dinner as well; America had been afraid he would be eating alone tonight, so it was somewhat of a relief.

But now it was the end of the day, and he couldn't wait until the last bell rang and he could go back to his dorm to hang out and meet his roommate and some of the other kids, too. He'd been looking forward to the social aspects of this school, living with kids from around the world, just as much as the academic opportunity.

When the last class finally ended, he was one of the first to rush out of the school, with his eyes set on the nearby building where all the boys had their dorms. He adjusted the strap of his bag and checked his pocket, again, for the key he'd placed there some ten minutes ago. Yup. Still safe and sound, like the last dozen times.

America was so intent on reaching his room quickly that he didn't notice a kid a lot smaller than him standing in his path. He accidentally ran smack into him, causing them both to tumble to the ground.

"Urgh, sorry, dude," America said, laughing a little as he sat up. He looked at the other kid and noticed that he was shaking as he sat on the sidewalk, and made no move to stand up. The smile slid from America's face as he wondered if he'd hurt the guy. He was kind of frail looking... "Hey, are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said quietly, lifting his head slightly and glancing very quickly at America's face.

America saw a brief flash of violet when those eyes met his. Something about them seemed…familiar. He checked the boy's blazer and saw the Canadian flag. _Where have I seen this guy before?_ His eyes roamed over the boy's longish hair, his glasses, and then back to the small red and white flag. _I know him…I _know _him…_

_Oh my God, I know him!_ His mouth fell open in astonishment. "Matthew!"

It was his brother. He hadn't seen him in more than five years.

* * *

**Sorry, this chapter's a little boring and short, but it was mostly just for setting the scene. We'll get to the good stuff soon! xD**

**And by the way, I'm going to do my best to keep everyone in character, but it IS an AU, so I'm sorry if I stray a little. .**

**Thanks for reading! Mega thanks to theticktalks who reads everything before I post and who helped me with some chapter ideas that you'll be seeing later on in this story! :D**


	2. Strangers : Canada

**Thanks to everyone who already favorited or added this to their alerts list or something. I can't believe just that first chapter convinced you guys this would be a good story! xD Hopefully you all will enjoy chapter number two as well~**

**Chapter Pairings: Mention of Prussia x Canada**

**2. Strangers (Canada)**

* * *

Canada got overlooked a lot in life. Sometimes people just didn't notice him; sometimes they literally didn't see him. But it was fine, he'd gotten used to it after a while. So the fact that a boy had just run into him, apparently without noticing him at all, wasn't really a surprise. It had happened before, to be honest.

He decided to sit on the cement and wait for the other kid to get up first. Then he would just quietly go on his way, and if he was lucky, never meet this stranger again.

"Urgh, sorry, dude," the kid said, laughing as he did so. Canada just tried to ignore him, waiting patiently for him to move on and forget this incident had ever even happened, like almost any other student at school would. But this kid seemed different: persistent. He wasn't leaving.

"Hey, are you ok?" the stranger asked a moment later, a surprising amount of concern in his voice.

Upon hearing the worry in the boy's voice, Canada looked up at him in surprise. But it was only for a second before he returned to his former position, staring at the ground and hiding his face. He had looked back down so quickly because there was something disturbingly familiar about the face of the boy who'd run into him.

_Do I know him? Could he be…? No…_

"Matthew!" the boy suddenly gasped, and Canada snapped his head back up to meet his eyes again.

_He knows my first name! I was right, I _do _know him! _Canada spied an American flag on his blazer and made the connection at once, a jolt passing through his system.

"A-Alfred?" he replied shakily, hardly daring to believe it.

"Oh my God, it _is_ you!" America shouted, and before he knew what was happening Canada found himself being squeezed in an excited, and very tight, embrace from his big brother. He was still sprawled out on the ground, and America was practically sitting on top of him in order to give him the hug. The whole thing was decidedly uncomfortable from his point of view, physically, but also emotionally.

_I haven't seen Al for almost six years, _he thought as America finally released him and then helped him to his feet. He brushed off his khaki pants slowly, being cautious and waiting to see what America would do. He for one wasn't sure how to act in what he considered to be a rather awkward reunion.

"Bro, I'm sorry I didn't recognize you at first! But the last time I saw you, you were even smaller and scrawnier than you are now!" America laughed loudly, causing some of the guys walking by to stare at the two of them. Canada shrunk further down into himself, unused to being paid attention to. America didn't seem to notice the others, though. He slapped Canada on the back cheerfully, causing him to lose his balance and he was forced to take a step to keep from falling over again.

America ignored Canada's near fall. "Dude, this is amazing, that we're both at this school, doncha think?"

"Uh, I guess so…"

"We _have_ to hang out. Hey, why don't you come check out my dorm with me right now?"

"Um, well…"

"Great! Let's go!" America grabbed Canada's slim wrist in a grasp much too firm for him to break free from and began pulling him away.

Canada was forcefully dragged across the school grounds towards the dorms, almost tripping as he tried to keep up with America's long, sure stride. He didn't really want to hang out with America right now, but he wasn't being given much of a choice.

They finally reached America's room. As America dug in his pocket for the key and then unlocked the door, Canada looked his older brother up and down and heaved a quiet sigh when he thought about their childhood and also remembered the last time they'd seen each other.

They were born only about ten months apart. And because of the cut-off date of the school systems where they lived, they were put into the same class in elementary school. It had been great, to have his sibling in class with him, and he'd been a happy kid. That is, before the divorce.

When America was six and Canada was a proud 'five-and-three-quarters', their parents' marriage began to dissolve. Well, 'dissolve' was the word his mother always used when she explained it to Canada in the following years, but to the young boys it had seemed more like an implosion.

Canada didn't really remember all that much of his life with his brother and both his parents. But he could recall with perfect clarity the arguments and then the 'move', as they called it at home. Just before his sixth birthday, his mother had taken him and they left, without even a goodbye. It was never explained to him; parents rarely feel that young children deserve to understand. At the time he supposed it was just one of those things that happened in life. The next thing he really remembered was celebrating turning six years old in their new house, in Canada, and that his big brother couldn't come for the party. He remembered crying at the time.

But that was a long time ago. The next time they'd seen each other was also the last. More than five years ago, Canada had visited his father and brother for a slightly belated Christmas celebration, staying at their house for a few days. He had gone alone; Mom hadn't wanted to come. And after his trip, discussion of visiting his family in the States all but ended at home. It made his mother upset whenever it was brought up, and the visit had been awkward for Canada, to say the least, so he never mentioned it.

_So why is Alfred acting so casually now?_ he wondered as he followed America into the dark room. _And why am just going along with it?_

"Wow, this is like, awesome!" America exclaimed upon turning on the light. Canada glanced around; a couple beds and a couple desks, the exact same as his room. A door to the side opened up to the bathroom (shared with your neighbors), and food was served in the cafeteria.

There was an open suitcase next to one of the beds in the room, one that looked as though it had been used last night. The other was still pristine and perfect.

"I know we were supposed to come yesterday, but I ended up driving instead of flying here and I got into town too late," America explained, dropping his schoolbag on the neatly made bed and immediately wrinkling the covers.

"You drove? Do you and Dad still live in New York?" Canada asked, grateful for something to talk about. The school was located in Massachusetts, so he figured they must live somewhere fairly close by.

"Oh, yeah. Same house as always."

They fell into an awkward silence and Canada wished desperately that he was anywhere but there. America was just fiddling with a buckle on his bag, looking around his room excitedly. His gaze seemed to pass right over Canada without seeing him.

_It's like he forgot that I'm here. Oh well, nothing new there._

"W-Who's your roommate?" he eventually forced himself to ask.

"Hm? Oh, hold on a sec." America rummaged through some papers from his bag and pulled out a rather sorry looking, crumpled little slip eventually. "Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. Know him?"

Yes, Canada knew him. Everybody knew each other at this school. "Yeah. He's from Spain."

"Oh, Spain! I think he was in my chemistry class!"

Canada shrugged, not sure how he was supposed to respond, exactly. _This is so awkward…we don't know each other at all and I doubt we have much in common. I wish I really _was _invisible…_

"So, Matthew," America said after a while, as he sunk into the chair at his desk. The mischievous gleam in his eye made Canada shift his weight from foot to foot in discomfort. "What's the girl situation like in town?"

Canada's heart practically stopped beating for some ten seconds before it went into overdrive, pounding seemingly somewhere up in his head, by his temples. He blushed and avoided meeting America's eye. "Uh…I d-don't r-really know…" He heard the slight stutter in his voice and hated himself for it. _Why can't I ever just keep calm and cool? Why does it have to be so obvious when I'm uncomfortable?_

"What, haven't you got yourself a girlfriend?"

"No!" Canada shook his head a little too quickly, sending the single curl that always separated itself from the rest of his hair flying violently from side to side. _I can't tell him the truth; I'm not ready for it! I will…eventually, but right now…things are awkward enough. We're still practically strangers._

"Really? Come on, man, we share DNA, I bet you're a real lady killer behind that 'quiet guy' exterior!" Canada couldn't tell if he was being made fun of or if America was dumb enough to be truly serious about his comment. Either way, he hated the way this discussion was going.

"No, not really," Canada tried to laugh it off, and prayed that America didn't notice how nervous he was.

"Yeah. Well, it's hard when you go to an all boy school, right?"

Canada made some sort of indistinct, semi-affirmative noise that seemed to satisfy his brother, who went on to hold a mostly one-sided conversation. Canada didn't really have much to add, and he was still shaken up by the uncomfortable territory their previous exchange had entered so unexpectedly. He was thankful when America's roommate, Spain, showed up and he was able to make his escape.

_I think they'll get along well…_he thought, somewhat amusedly, as he listened to the two of them talking excitedly to each other, both at the same time. He quietly slipped out of the room, confident that they wouldn't miss him even if they noticed his absence. Which he doubted they would.

The small grin that was on his face as he silently shut the door was slowly replaced by a worried expression as he caught sight of a familiar white-haired boy walking in his direction.

"Hey, Birdie! How was your first day?" Prussia asked as he approached him, calling him by his pet name.

"Oh, it was fine," Canada replied weakly. Prussia threw an arm around his shoulders and started to chat cheerfully as he escorted Canada down the hall, in the direction of both of their rooms. Canada smiled at the boy by his side, but inside his stomach was still churning with anxiety.

_I wonder how Al will take it when I tell him about my…boyfriend._

* * *

**BWAHAHA, personally, I like the end of this one! :D Don't fret, this will be going places…good places, I hope!**

**Oh, just so you all know, I chose about half of the roommates based on pairings or because it was necessary for some future chapter, but the other half were just randomly chosen. So don't worry, I'm not about to start doing some America x Spain or something. xD**

**Thanks for reading! I love my readers, seriously. Thanks for theticktalks for…being patient when I know she has every right not to be. xD**


	3. The Awesome Me! : Prussia

**There IS a reason why there's a Prussia at this school, but I don't know when I'll get around to explaining it. Chapter 36 at the latest…and if you think I'm joking then you've got another thing coming! xD I have this whole story planned out already, haha. So if you're in it, be prepared to be in it for the long haul! 50 chapters!**

**Chapter Pairings: Prussia x Canada**

**3. The Awesome Me! (Prussia)**

* * *

"I know that _my _awesome ears couldn't have heard you wrong, so _you_ must have misspoken," Prussia said, hoping that if he made light of the situation, it might go away. He was walking briskly towards the school building on his way to the second day of classes.

"Gil, I'm being serious," Canada replied from just behind him. Prussia felt his boyfriend's slim fingers wrapping around his wrist, forcing him to turn and look into those sweet, sad, violet eyes. It seemed Canada had figured out that he just couldn't resist when he looked at him like that. He relented, as he always did.

"Tell me again," Prussia said, sighing and taking Canada seriously, looking him straight in the eye. "What is that you want me to do?"

"I'm asking you to please keep our relationship quiet around school for a little while."

_That's what I thought he said._ "Why?" he asked, brows furrowed slightly, taking Canada's hand in his as they continued walking to school, but at a slower pace. "We never have before. Everyone already knows about us." The idea of keeping their relationship a secret made him feel nervous and uncomfortable for some reason.

"Not everyone. My brother doesn't know."

"The new American kid?" Canada nodded. "Well, who cares?" Prussia shouted, laughing loudly now as relief rushed through his veins. _That's all this is about_? _That America guy?_ "Who cares if he finds out!"

"I do, Gilbert!" Prussia rarely heard Canada as worked up as he was now. The edge in his voice that indicated that he was close to panic abruptly stemmed the flow of relief making its way through Prussia's systems. "He doesn't know that I'm…that I'm gay!"

Canada blushed as he always did when he said the word 'gay' as applied to himself. It was still a new concept to him. Prussia had only convinced him to go out with him near the end of junior year. Before that, he'd staunchly refused Prussia's advances for two years, maintaining the claim that he was straight. But Prussia had managed to change his mind eventually. Even now he smirked at the thought. Then he remembered their current conversation and scowled.

"If he doesn't know, then we'll just have to go tell him! It'll be fine, he'll be happy that his little brother has such an awesome boyfriend!" Awesome was one of Prussia's favorite words to describe himself. It just suited him. Even when he was feeling less than awesome, like right now.

"Please, I just need to take my time before I tell him!"

"What, am I not good enough for you to bring home now or something? I know you never told your mom, but I thought you'd tell your _brother_ about us." Now Prussia was beginning to get mad, the more he thought about it. Canada had never even told his own _friends_ about the two of them going out. They'd only found out through Prussia.

"No, it's not that…" Canada said quietly, shyly, as though avoiding the real issue.

"Then is this just an excuse? I know you don't really like it when we kiss in public; is that what this is about? Are you ashamed to be seen with me at school, now, too?"

"No!"

"Really, 'cause that's what it sounds like."

"Gilbert, you're taking this all wrong!" Canada stamped his foot and his voice had a desperate note to it, but once Prussia had his mind set, nothing could change it.

"_You're_ the one that's wrong, here!" Prussia said angrily, before charging ahead and managing to lose himself in the crowd in the front entrance of the school building. He ignored Canada calling his name somewhere behind him.

He felt a little guilty for making Canada, his Birdie, so upset. But he was so disappointed that Canada thought that he had to keep their relationship a secret from his brother. Why was Canada so afraid to tell him? Didn't he know that Prussia would always protect him and love him, no matter what his American sibling thought?

He sat down in his desk at first block fuming, glad that it was only the second day and he probably wouldn't have to pay much attention in class. The teacher was just talking about the first book they'd be reading for the class, which was English. It was to be _Hamlet_, but Prussia really couldn't care less. He was busy trying to get the attention of his cousin, who also attended this school: Germany.

He flicked a small ball of paper at him, and then laughed quietly when it hit him square on the nose. His cousin, who, in Prussia's opinion, was a little too serious for his own good, glared at him with cold, blue eyes, apparently not finding it amusing. "What?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

Prussia waited a heartbeat until the teacher began to pass out their books, and then turned in his seat to face Germany across the aisle. "Mattie's been acting really weird ever since he found out his brother was going here. Today, he asked me-"

"To keep your big mouth shut, for once," Germany said calmly, taking a book from the stack as it came his way. Prussia glared at him, silently demanding to know how he knew that. Germany shrugged. "He asked all of his, and your, close friends to keep quiet about it too. And _I_ intend to respect his wishes."

"The little bitch!" Prussia murmured, crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back in his seat.

Germany leaned closer, and whispered heatedly, "It's not _bitchy_ of your boyfriend to ask you to do something for him, but _you'll _be if you don't do what he's asked." He sat back up straight, composed and poised, looking forward as the teacher made her way back to the front of the room.

Prussia sulked for the rest of class, now angry at Canada _and_ Germany.

_They just don't understand how the mind of one as awesome as me works,_ he thought as the bell rang and he shoved his way out into the hall, making sure he rammed his shoulder against Germany as he passed him. _Mattie should be excited to tell his family about me! Why is he always running away from his problems! He can't avoid this forever._

He remained angry all through his second and third classes. During lunch he sat with his friends, France and Spain, rather than seeking out Canada like he always did. _If he wants me to ignore him in school, then that's what he's gonna get!_ he thought savagely. He was determined not to give in to those beautiful purple eyes, so he pointedly looked in the other direction when Canada walked by with America. As he did, he felt a horrible tugging sensation in his chest, but he tried not to notice it.

However, a school day is a long time to sit and ignore the bubbling feeling of regret. He had hours to sit alone and just think. So sometime after lunch, he began to feel guilt gnaw at his insides. Prussia liked to think himself invincible to such emotions as guilt and remorse, but when it came to Canada sometimes he started getting all touchy-feely. It was disgusting, but worth it, he often thought. He wasn't thinking that now, though, as it felt like his stomach was eating itself.

The problem was, he loved Canada, and he'd often said he'd do anything for him. But this morning, for whatever reason, he'd just snapped at him without thinking, and now he regretted it. He still felt that they shouldn't have to hide their relationship, but if it was what Canada wanted…he sighed and ran his hand through his hair. He was trying to concentrate on the test in front of him, a sort of pretest to see how much the students knew about chemistry. He was awesome at chemistry, usually, but right now he could only think about Canada and the twisting, turning, churning feeling in his gut.

_I'll talk to him after school…_he decided, but was still distracted and didn't finish his test before the bell rang. He turned it in partially completed and hurried outside, all the time looking for Canada's familiar curl among all the heads of hair. He didn't find him, and he walked back to the dorms without the usual arrogant bounce in his step.

He dumped his bag in his room and immediately headed to the common room, a large room in the dorm building filled with comfortable chairs and tables where a lot of kids did their homework and socialized. Canada could often be found there directly after school, doing his schoolwork like a good boy. Prussia usually waited a few hours before starting his, but he liked to sit and annoy his boyfriend while he worked. They had their own little corner where no one bothered them, if they were even noticed.

When he entered the room he saw Canada sitting in his usual chair, working hard at whatever assignment he'd been given. Prussia hurried over and slid into his favorite seat, which was still pulled up right next to Canada's. Canada gave him a look and then coolly turned his eyes back down to his homework.

"Oh. Hi, Prussia."

The use of his nation's name instead of his own really hurt Prussia. It sounded so cold and formal and distant that he just couldn't stand it. Without taking any more time to think about it, he blurted out an apology. "Birdie, I'm sorry about what I said this morning!"

Canada seemed to take a few seconds to register the words that Prussia had said, but he slowly looked up at Prussia, inviting him to continue. "Look, if it really means that much to you, of course I won't say anything to your brother about us. Because," Prussia lowered his voice. "I love you." He said this often to Canada, but somehow it felt different this time. He was looking Canada straight in the eye and he knew as he said it that he meant it, really and truly.

Canada's expression softened and he blushed, lowering his gaze after a moment. He glanced to either side of him before turning back to Prussia and whispering in a barely audible voice, "I love you, too, Gil. Thanks for understanding."

Prussia nodded and leaned back in his armchair, grinning once again. "No problema, dude," he said loudly, settling into the comfortable chair. He propped his feet up on the table Canada was using and chuckled when Canada glared at him for it. He laughed even harder when Canada tried, in vain, to remove his feet through force. The boy's skinny arms just couldn't lift Prussia's legs, and eventually he had to give up.

They spent the entire evening together like that; like friends instead of lovers. Since Prussia usually spent most of his free time attempting to molest his partner, it was actually a considerable change for him. It was difficult to resist his beautiful little Canadian, but he knew how important this was, so he restrained himself.

The hardest part came when they had to say goodnight by Canada's dorm room. Prussia thought that he would still get his goodnight kiss, as long as they were away from prying eyes, but Canada ducked his head as he approached. "It's easier if we just don't," he whispered, with a fearful look down the hall. Prussia could see him trembling and knew that it was just as hard on his boyfriend as it was on him, but Canada was truly afraid that America might learn about them before he had the chance to tell him properly.

"Ok. Goodnight, then." Prussia walked the few yards to his own room and glanced back at Canada, who was still waiting in the hall outside his door. There was something like sorrow in Canada's eyes as he waved a little goodnight.

…

Prussia was as good as he'd ever been in his whole life for the next two days. He kept a respectful distance between them as they walked to class together. He sat with Canada and America during lunch and, though he thought the whole thing was damn awkward, introduced himself as a friend of Canada's. He stayed in his own chair the entire time they were in the common room. He didn't kiss his boyfriend goodnight. He called him Canada in school and Matthew in the dorms, refraining from using his pet names. He kept telling himself, _just grin and bear it._

He felt like he was going to explode, but he continued grinning and bearing it.

After he said goodnight, completely verbally, on the third night of this torture, he was digging in his pocket for his room key when he heard quick, light footsteps behind him. Turning, he raised an eyebrow. "Matthew…?"

Canada threw his entire body weight, little as it was, against Prussia, pressing his back against the door. Prussia couldn't help but gasp in astonishment at being thrown back, and also at the determined, almost ferocious, look in Canada's eye. "What're you-" he managed to get out before Canada smashed their lips together in a desperate, passionate kiss. It was crude and clumsy but beautiful and satisfying and _awesome_ in every way. Surprised, but pleased, Prussia bent his knees a little and shifted his body lower, allowing Canada to have his way. It was the first time he could remember Canada acting as the aggressor in…well, anything.

When they finally broke for air, Prussia could only look at Canada in shock. "Birdie…what…?" was all he could ask. He was at a loss for words, a very rare occurrence indeed.

Canada was breathing heavily and blushing profusely. He pushed his glasses, which had slid down his nose a way, back up and cleared his throat a couple times before answering. "I just can't do it anymore, Gil. I'm telling Alfred tomorrow!"

* * *

**AND THE FLUFF HAS BEGUN! I think they're just too cute. xD I like to refer to this pairing as Prunada in my head, haha.**

**Thanks to everyone who's reading this! And theticktalks, cause she's always reading and editing for me!**


	4. My Brother's Gay! : America

**First decently long chapter! Hope you guys like it. : )**

**Chapter Pairings: Many mentions of Prussia x Canada; tiny references to Sweden x Finland and Denmark x Norway**

**4. My Brother's Gay! (America)**

* * *

America had settled in right away at Hetalia High. He got along very well with his roommate, Spain, immediately. They were both so easy going, it would have been impossible _not_ to. He also made other friends; he got closer to his brother of course, and one of his brother's friends seemed to be decent. His nation's name was Prussia, which had sounded vaguely familiar to America, but when he checked his atlas later, he couldn't find any such country. Still, all three of them had sat together at lunch before and he seemed like a good enough guy, if not a bit obnoxious. Then again, America of all people could hardly complain about that.

However, the person he grew the closest to was England.

Ever since his first day they'd spent a lot of their free time together. They ate meals and hung out in the common room and did their homework together. He was quickly becoming a person America would identify as his 'best friend' if he had to choose one, though he still couldn't really explain why England bothered to let the new kid tag along with him. America had once asked him why he didn't spend more time with his other friends, and England had answered, after a while, that he really didn't have many close friends.

England was short-tempered, sarcastic, cynical, and a little off-putting to most of the other boys, it was true. America knew all these things, and had experienced them firsthand, yet to him they weren't defaults in his personality. They just were. He wasn't really picky about what kind of guys he made friends with, so anyone willing to put up with him was good enough for him. And England continued to put up with him, even if his words sometimes indicated that he'd rather not.

They were together now, about a week after the school year had begun. Everyone was settled into their new classes and schedules, and so actual work was now being assigned. America was gazing at his chemistry book, not comprehending a word of it and occasionally glancing over at England, who was writing steadily for some English assignment. Appropriately enough, England was really great at anything that had to do with the English language.

When he was concentrating really hard, such as now, England had the tendency to run his hands through his already messy hair, causing it to stick up in various, impossible, directions. At the moment, America found his friend's hair about thirty times more interesting than his homework, so he ended up just kind of staring stupidly at England, who eventually looked up and noticed.

"And what're you smirking at, ya git," he asked mildly, turning back to his work as he did so.

America just laughed and shook his head, not bothering to tell England about his interesting hairdo. Better to let him find out on his own. Sighing, he looked at his chemistry book again for about four seconds before he found a welcome distraction in Canada making his way over to their spot in the room.

"Hey, bro! How's it going?" he asked.

"Hm? Oh, fine, I guess." Canada sounded preoccupied, or nervous, or _something_, to America. He was glancing around a lot and wringing his hands. "Uh…England?" he asked timidly, a few seconds later. "Do you mind if I talk to Al alone for a second?"

America raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. He waited for England's response. When no answer came forth after about two minutes, he leaned over and punched the Brit gently on the arm. England looked up from his writing, seeming to just notice for the first time that they'd been joined by another.

"Oh! Hello, Canada. Can we help you?"

"Uh…c-could I talk to Al for a minute…a-alone?" Canada stuttered nervously, not meeting England's eye. America had known since they were young that Canada always stuttered slightly when he felt intimidated, and being ignored by England must have disconcerted him.

"Of course. I'll just go sit with my…roommate…" England did not look particularly excited at the prospect, and America knew why. His roommate was a French boy who seemed to make a hobby out of sexually harassing anyone who came near him, and he seemed to especially annoy England. But he still shot America a small smile despite his clear distaste at having to leave. "I'll see you later," he said as he gathered his papers. America nodded once, his eyes following England's movements as he began to walk away.

Canada sank into England's vacated seat and began speaking rapidly, albeit quietly, but America was still watching his friend as he crossed the room and encountered France. Something about France's hand trailing across England's cheek (his standard method of greeting his roommate) made him feel vaguely uncomfortable, but he couldn't quite place the feeling. He was lost in thought for a few seconds, but soon noticed the small voice to his right. When he realized that his brother had been talking to him for the last minute or so, he quickly tried to refocus.

"Sorry, what was that? I didn't really hear…any of it, actually." He laughed, as though to berate himself for being so rude, and to try and make light of the situation.

Canada looked distraught at having to repeat himself. _I hope it's nothing _too _important…_America thought, settling back into his armchair and getting ready to really listen this time.

"I was just…I…" Canada seemed at a loss for words. America noticed that his face was flushed and he still looked nervous. _He probably cheated on a quiz or something and now feels guilty about it…_America sighed, but then smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way.

"Dude, if there's something wrong, just say it. I'm your brother; you can trust me, right?"

Canada nodded, but he still didn't look like he really believed it. Eventually, though, he raised his head a little and met America's gaze steadily for the first time. His voice didn't even shake a little as he said, "There _is_ something I want to tell you. So I'm just going to say it, and I don't care what you think about me after I do."

Now slightly more curious at how serious and bold Canada was being, America nodded for him to continue and leaned forward slightly, listening attentively.

Canada drew a breath and spoke as he released it.

"I'm gay."

America wasn't homophobic. He lived in a state where same-sex marriage was legal, he had gay friends, and he always tried to be accepting of everyone in general. So while he wasn't upset or anything about the fact, the news still came as a shock. And try as he might to take it calmly and naturally, he still ended up staring at his brother like an idiot. "You're…gay!" was the only thing he could come up with to say in response; unfortunately, it came out more like an accusation than a question.

Canada nodded, but suddenly he looked fearful and less confident than before. He looked like he was close to tears, so America figured he better try reassuring him or something.

"Well…uh, good for you!" he finally said, cringing slightly on the inside at how that had come out. Still, the words had the desired effect; Canada looked up at him hopefully. "What I mean is…it makes no difference to me, if that's what you were worried about."

Canada looked immensely relieved. "I w-was afraid…" his voice faltered for a few seconds, but then he laughed gently. "This is the first time I've ever actually told someone." He sounded somewhat proud of himself for finally managing to do it, too.

"Really? So is this a new thing, then?" America couldn't help but smile at the direction this conversation was going in. There was just something…nice, about being trusted like this. And he admittedly found it just a _little_ bit funny that his baby brother was gay. Not in a mean way, just an ironic sort of way.

"It's been a few months," he answered, blushing but still sounding pleased all the same. "But I haven't told mom yet, and Gil is the one who told all the other kids here."

_Gil?_ "Wait, you mean Prussia?" America asked quickly. His voice cracked slightly as he rushed to get all the words out, but he hardly noticed.

"Yeah. He's my boyfriend."

"Really?" America's grin faltered. He knew they were friends and everything, but could it be possible they were _dating_? The two just seemed so…opposite. "Are you sure?"

Canada looked shocked at that. "Y-Yes, of course I'm sure…" he replied, sounding contradictorily uncertain of himself, probably because he'd been so surprised by the question. But then he said with more strength, as though just remembering, "He's been asking me out since freshman year. _I_ only said yes last April."

"What made you change your mind?" America couldn't help but ask, still trying to imagine his little brother with another man and finding it terribly amusing.

"W-Well," Canada started, blushing madly again. "Like I said, he'd been asking me and stuff since we were freshmen. I'd never even considered…y-you know, men…before, so I always told him that I was straight. But then, at the end of last school year, he did something that made me change my mind about him as a person, and that allowed me to think of him as a guy I could go out with." Canada paused, prompting America to ask the obvious question.

"What did he do?"

Canada grinned; he looked pretty excited to tell his story, America thought. His voice was growing in strength as he continued telling his story, losing the occasional stutter it had before. "Well, the thing is, whenever he was around me back then, I'd always just get this feeling that he was a totally obnoxious, self-centered jerk. You know what I mean?"

"I've had experience with obnoxious jerks, yes," America agreed solemnly with a nod.

"But then, last April," Canada continued, smiling down into his hands, a perpetual, happy blush settled across his cheeks, "I noticed he was acting kinda strangely one day, so I followed him to see what was up. I didn't mean to be secretive about it, but I don't think he ever noticed I was there…that happens sometimes…well, I followed him outside during lunch one day. We're not supposed to leave the dining hall, you know." America nodded. "But I was really curious. At that time we were friends, pretty much, so I didn't think he'd mind anyways. I followed him all the way back to the dorm building, but instead of going to his room he went into a storage closet that no one really uses. He picked the lock to get in, but since he didn't know I was there, he didn't close the door all the way behind him, and I could see him clearly. By then I thought he was probably just there to smoke, or something like that, but he really surprised me. He was in there taking care of a little yellow bird that he was keeping in a box. It was small, and it couldn't fly yet, and he was feeding it by hand and talking to it so gently, that I…well, I guess I knew then that he could be caring in his own way…so the next time he asked me out, I said yes. I think I was almost as surprised as he was, but…I haven't regretted it since." Canada laughed softly and added, "He calls me Birdie, even now, because of how that little bird finally changed my mind."

Canada's eyes had glazed over somewhat as he'd lost himself while telling his story, and he had a sickeningly sweet smile on his face. America could hardly believe the words coming out of his baby brother's mouth, but he was being so sincere and honest that he couldn't make fun of him, even if he wanted to.

_He's so…happy,_ America thought, trying and failing to remember a time when they were younger that he'd ever seen his brother smile like he was now. _He's really in love…I think I'm jealous of him, just a little bit._

America smiled a little uncertainly and clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Thanks for telling me," he said, his smile growing wider and surer at the look of surprise and relief on Canada's face. "I'm glad that you're happy."

"Thank you. Thank you for understanding." Suddenly America found his little brother giving him a brief but firm hug. He shook his head, grinning, and gave Canada a little pat on the back.

…

America thought about Canada a lot that night. Spain was asleep and snoring softly long before America's brain stopped dancing dizzying circles through his head. It was a lot to take in. He'd barely become reacquainted with the guy, and now he finds out that he's gay. Of course he didn't think any less of him, but he certainly couldn't help but think…_differently_ about him.

Couldn't help but think protectively about him.

_He _had always been accepting of people, no matter their race, religion, sexuality, you name it. But that didn't mean that everyone else at this school was like that. What if the real reason Canada had never told his friends was because he was afraid of being bullied? The students at this school came from all over the world; they were raised in places with different outlooks on this sort of thing. Surely there was at least one among them that gave Canada grief over it. It made him feel sick to his stomach just to think of it. He was his _brother,_ after all, he wanted to protect him. It was only natural, right?

Thoughts like these buzzed through his head for hours, keeping him awake, until he eventually fell asleep just before 3:30 in the morning, still worrying about it. His brain was working overtime even as he tossed and turned for a few short hours of sleep. He could only dream about Canada and nameless, faceless people with accusing, hurtful voices, and he could only try to think of a way to stop them from their merciless taunting and bullying.

…

The next morning, he realized that all that thinking must have paid off, because by the time he awoke, he had a plan formed in his mind that made him feel instant relief. It was simple. He'd just have to stay by Canada's side and protect him if he noticed anything suspect going on. He'd become a shield from the cruel, outside world and keep him from getting hurt. He was determined to do so.

Wanting to start his new duty as Canada's bodyguard as soon as possible, he spent all of breakfast looking around for him, occasionally standing up for a better view, and carefully checking every table for a glimpse of his distinct hair curl, much to England's annoyance.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked grumpily as America stood up in his chair to get an even better vantage point to see the room from.

"I'm trying to find Matt!" He'd looked around the whole place at least two times, but he just couldn't find Canada. It didn't seem like anyone was missing, but somehow his eyes just kept skipping over him or something. He sighed and dropped back down to his seat before someone noticed and he got in trouble.

"Why are you looking for him?"

"It's…it's nothing, really. Just a question on the chemistry from yesterday…" He didn't think England would be one of those people to judge or be harsh to his brother, but he still thought it better to be safe than sorry and just hold his tongue at this point.

So, unable to locate him during breakfast, it wasn't until the walk to the school building when America saw his first chance to get close to him. He was walking hand in hand with Prussia, right out in the open where everyone could see! There were several boys in between America and the pair of lovebirds, and he saw one of them, who he thought he recognized as Italy, specifically point in their direction and then whisper something to his friend Japan. Italy looked like he was laughing; was he making fun of them?

_God, I've got to save him from himself!_ Running to catch up, he inserted himself between Canada and his boyfriend, ignoring the threatening looks being thrown his way.

"Ah, another day of school! I'm so glad it's Friday, aren't you guys?" He looked from Canada to Prussia and back again; neither made any sign they had even heard him. They just stared at him with rather murderous expressions on their faces. "Okaaayyy…" Thankfully they entered the foyer at that point and the bell rang, indicating they had to go their separate ways to their classes. "Well, see you later!"

He scurried off to his first class, glad to get away from Prussia, for one thing, who looked like he was close to punching him. But he thought it was a good start to the day. He'd just have to keep it up, stick close to them and take notice of how other students were treating them. Even while he was in class, he listened closely to the chatter of the boys around him whenever there was a pause long enough for conversation to start up. Unfortunately, paranoia made it seem like every snatch of conversation that he heard was about his brother.

"..did you see…"

"…I can't believe…"

"…he looked so…"

It was eating away at him from the inside, and he didn't even have to worry for _himself_ in this situation. How did Canada live like this? Is this why he was so quiet and nervous all the time? It was really food for thought.

…

He didn't catch sight of Canada in the hallways at all between the next couple of classes, but at lunch he caught up to him and Prussia again.

"Hey! We should all eat together, dontcha think?" he asked, smiling his most winning smile.

The other two exchanged a look, and Prussia stepped forward, towards America. "Actually, we want to be alone."

That wasn't part of the plan. "What? Oh, come on, Matt, tell Prussia here that-"

"We want to be alone today," Prussia repeated firmly, placing a hand on Canada's shoulder. Canada was blushing slightly and refused to meet America's eye, choosing to look down at the floor instead, but he nodded in agreement at Prussia's words.

America frowned. He hated being refused, first of all, but he also disliked the thought that Prussia might be controlling Canada. Or even worse, making him deliberately disagree with his older brother. "Hey, let him speak for himself, don't just assume things!"

Canada piped up, "Uh, Al, we already-"

He cut him off with a sharp, "Matt, don't interrupt me!" Then he cleared his throat and continued. "As I was saying, I don't know if I like the idea of _you_ making decisions like that for him!"

Canada looked between the two of them. "But-"

"Birdie, let me speak!" Prussia burst out angrily. He jabbed his pointer finger accusingly into America's chest. "You think you know what's best for him? I mean, you haven't _talked_ to him in years, and now all of a sudden you think that you two are best friends or something? I've been with him for the last three years, and I _love_ him."

"Hey, not so loud! Someone might hear you!" The words slipped out of America's mouth before he had the chance to stop them. Prussia looked at him kind of strangely before rolling his eyes, grabbing Canada, and marching him away. Canada looked back curiously at America but went along.

America cursed himself and stalked off to sit with England. He was distracted all through lunch though, because Prussia had chosen a table in plain view of where he was sitting. Probably on purpose, too. Then he kept scooting closer and closer to Canada until they were practically sitting on top of each other and about halfway through lunch he kissed him slowly, deliberately, and very obviously.

America ground his teeth and glanced around uncomfortably. He still had the instinctive urge to protect his little brother, whether he thought Prussia was being a jerk or not. However, it didn't look like anyone was giving them so much as a second glance. Actually, the only person who seemed to notice anything at all was Spain, America's roommate and Prussia's friend, and he just gave Prussia a thumbs-up.

_Ok, I mean, I guess at this point it would be reasonable to assume that most everyone here is fine with gays, but no one even gave them a glance…?_

It was only then that America began to notice something strange. There seemed to be a lot of pairs of people that were sitting a little more closely together than you usually saw with people who were just friends. The small kid from Finland was smiling up sweetly at the stern-faced boy beside him. A Danish boy kept trying to put an arm around a Norwegian kid who didn't look amused, but his pink cheeks told otherwise. France looked like he was trying to seduce a poor freshman who didn't know any better. Another couple, two sophomores that he didn't know, walked past, holding hands. There were small signs of it everywhere, now that he looked.

"Uh…" he said dumbly, his mouth hanging open in realization. "England?"

"Hm? What?"

"Is there…what I mean is…how…" He didn't know exactly now to word this question without making it awkward. Actually, he was pretty sure there _wasn't_ a way to do so. There wasn't much use in trying. "Uh, can I ask you a weird question?"

England narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Weird how?" He took a sip of his water, still watching America closely.

"Well, the thing is, I was wondering if you could tell me…about the gay community here?"

England almost choked on his water, and coughed a few times, pounding on his chest. "Uh, but, why!"

America shrugged. "I was just wondering."

"But…_why_?"

America sighed, but explained about how Canada had told him. England wasn't surprised at the news, of course: he already knew all about it. After America finished telling him, he repeated his question. Eventually, England answered, though he didn't look too happy about it.

"Well, I'd say a fair amount…even the majority…of the boys here are gay, and everyone's pretty much okay with it. That's it. That's all there is to it, honestly." England's cheeks were tinged with red and he seemed a little uncomfortable, so America let it drop after that, though his mind was racing once again.

_Well, I guess there are some things about a school that you just _can't _find out in a brochure_, he thought, an amused smile on his face as he realized how useless all his worrying last night had been. Then the impact of what England had just said really sunk in. _The majority…?_

_Oh God, what kind of school did I get myself in to!_

* * *

**The chapters will be getting a little more interesting soon, I think. I can't wait for some of them! I'm going to have so much fun with this story. xD**

**Thanks theticktalks, and anyone who's reading this! Love you guys!**


	5. I'M Gay, Too : England

**This chapter is a little…angsty or something. I don't know. If I think about it too much, it makes me sad! D : But I still like it because I love Arthur! : 3**

**Chapter Pairings: America x England (one-sided)**

**5. I'M Gay, Too (England)**

* * *

"Well, the thing is, I was wondering if you could tell me…about the gay community here?" America was looking at him with complete, honest, sincerity.

The water that England had been in the process of swallowing suddenly came spluttering back up to the surface as he coughed and choked at the unexpected question. He pounded himself on the chest a few times as he tried to come up with a decent response. Stalling for more time, he eventually asked, "Uh, but, why!"

"I was just wondering."

_That's not what I meant!_

"But…_why?"_ England simply had to know exactly why America was asking. He didn't want to (_get my hopes up_) make assumptions.

America sighed and then launched into an explanation about his brother, Canada. Even though England had gone to school with the kid for three years, it took a little prompting from America before he completely remembered who he was. Canada was a quiet, unremarkable, boy who sometimes seemed to just blend in with the background. The only memorable thing he'd done thus far in his high school career was to capture the affections of Prussia, a kid who was known for quite the opposite reasons Canada was.

Anyway, England gathered from America's account that Canada had only just told him, the day before, that he was seeing another man, and it appeared to have upset America somewhat. England frowned a little, but continued listening.

"And I mean, it's not like I'm like, against gays or something, ya know? I was just really worried that kids here might be like, bullying him or something. But then I kinda noticed that there was actually a _lot_ of…" he paused, gestured around at the cafeteria at large, and didn't finish his sentence. He looked helplessly at England. "So can you just explain it to me?"

England had been completely relieved to hear that America had nothing against gays, but this was still a sensitive subject. He wanted to be careful in how he approached it, but he knew that he was blushing, and probably seemed really uncomfortable and awkward in front of America. He cleared his throat and finally just gave a response. "Well, I'd say a fair amount…even the majority…of the boys here are gay, and everyone's pretty much okay with it. That's it. That's all there is to it, honestly."

America seemed to accept that answer and sat in silence to think over it. England was grateful for the break it gave him. He tried to finish eating his lunch but discovered, without much surprise, that his stomach was a little too queasy to eat right now. Instead, he let his eyes travel up and down America, who, thankfully, wasn't paying him any attention at the moment, but was looking out the window and appeared to be deep in thought.

As he gazed at America, he felt his stomach flutter and his cheeks regained their red tinge from before. His chest felt tight, and he knew that it was all America's fault, but he couldn't make himself look away. He was just grateful for this minute or so that he could look at him, study him, without his notice. He wished so badly that America could know how he was feeling right now, or, even more impossibly, reciprocate it. But he hadn't even had the balls to tell America that he himself happened to be gay, too. If he had, then even the dense American might begin to notice how he felt…

The thing was, he liked him so, _so_ much. Even from the first day of school, he'd immediately noticed an attraction. From the start, he'd told himself that nothing would come of it. America was always casually mentioning girls and actresses he thought were hot, and besides, England wasn't really great at 'relationships' anyways. Still, logic and common sense hadn't stopped his heart from speeding up when America was near, or made him stop coming up with excuses to spend extra time with him. He'd hoped that over some time, maybe America would come around and grow to have feelings for him, too.

But after the conversation they'd just had, he highly doubted that would ever happen.

America had seemed totally shocked and flustered to find out that not only his brother, but actually the vast majority of the boys at this school, preferred other men. It didn't look like he'd ever, in his life, questioned his own sexuality.

_I should just forget about him_, England thought miserably for the hundredth time as the bell rang and everyone in the cafeteria stood as one. He caught America's eye as they headed off in their separate directions for their next classes, and forced himself to return his smile while inside he felt sick.

_He's never going to like me back. _

…

England sank into somewhat of a depression over the next few days. Every time he saw America's smiling, optimistic face, his gut clenched and he forced himself to look away. He couldn't even tell if he was trying to discourage himself, or if looking at him was just too painful. Either way, America began to notice after a while. This ended up only making things worse, because after that he kept trying to cheer England up. And as much as England liked the boy, that didn't stop him from hating him occasionally.

"I'll let you borrow it~" America sounded as though he was making an offer that one simply _couldn't_ refuse, though England entirely planned on doing just that.

"No, thank you."

"Aw, come on. Why not?"

Now he was getting annoyed. "Piss off!"

"Go on. Just take it."

"Get that out of my face!" England snapped. He just couldn't take it anymore. America was waving a smuggled Playboy magazine under his nose, trying to tempt him out of his bad mood. Believe it or not, it wasn't quite working.

America sat back, looking defeated. As though he couldn't comprehend the fact that Playboy had failed him. England didn't look at him, he just sank further down into his armchair and raised his book to cover his probably bright red face. He was reading _Pride and Prejudice_. He always turned to the classics when he was depressed, although it wasn't working as well as it usually did to make him feel better. Shocker.

"I don't get how you can read that girl crap," America said after a while. Then he grinned. "Especially when I'm offering up my special, limited edition here." He held up the magazine again, but England refused to even look in his direction. Eventually, with a sigh, America gave up and let it drop back down into his lap.

England continued frowning at the same spot on the page, not truly reading, until America got bored with pouting and turned his attention elsewhere. Then he let the open book fall against his face and he groaned quietly, suddenly wishing that he could've fallen for someone else. _Anyone_ else.

…

England finished _Pride and Prejudice_ in record time but still didn't feel satisfied. What he really wanted to read was _Jane Eyre_, his all-time favorite, but unfortunately his copy was back at home in England. He could always send for it, but…that might take a few days, and he needed it _now_.

So that weekend he found himself in his favorite local bookstore, a charming little place that served as both a regular bookstore and a small café where customers (or anyone else) were encouraged to sit and read, even if they hadn't bought anything. It was very comfortable, with several couches in addition to regular chairs and tables, and had a fireplace for use during the cold New England winters.

He occasionally liked to buy a scone at the café (they served the only decent scone he'd found thus far in America) but today he wasn't much in the mood to eat. He just needed his book.

Luckily, they had several copies. He pulled one off the shelf and held it against his chest for a moment, his eyes closed in a silent word of thanks, before he rushed to pay for it. Looking at the cover after he'd bought it, he felt truly happy for the first time in about a week, and was ready to get to reading as soon as possible. He eyed one of the couches close to the unlit fireplace and thought it looked entirely inviting. Not to mention, a whole lot more convenient and more peaceful than the common room at school, where America was no doubt innocently and obliviously hanging around.

He took a few steps toward it before he glanced at the only other people in the area and stopped in his tracks. Curled up together on one of the other couches were two boys from his school: Sweden and Finland.

They were like, the school's official cutest couple. Finland had denied for a long time that they were together, but it was obvious that they'd liked each other since freshman year. Now they were always holding hands in the hallways and Sweden, who usually looked pretty frightening and unapproachable, had been known to almost smile while with his boyfriend. To be frank, they were so cute, it was sickening.

So there was _no way in Hell_ that England was going to sit there and watch them cuddle and be happy and adorable together. His chest hurt just thinking about it.

He was already on his way out the door before he realized how close to tears he was. _Urgh, this is _his _fault! Everything is!_ He wiped angrily at his eyes as he reached the sidewalk outside, hating how weak and vulnerable America, unknowingly, made him feel. Then, just to let out a little frustration, he kicked the brick wall of the building.

"Fuck you, America," he spat out violently as he remembered why kicking solid stone walls was a bad idea. He gingerly put his throbbing foot back down and winced. He briefly considered calling America and asking him for a ride, but dropped the idea immediately. He set his teeth and got ready to limp the whole way back to school.

This was _definitely_ all America's fault.

* * *

**I LOVE Jane Eyre! xD Ah, but poor England! Don't worry, things will get better. I could never leave him like this forever! ; )**

**Also, does being known as having the 'best scones' count as a compliment? I'm not so sure. : P**

**So for some reason these first five chapters were extremely dependent on each other for storyline, but after this most of the chapters are much more separate, sometimes even with huge time jumps in between them. And as a sneak peek for next time, it's going to be a two-part, super fluffy, SuFin! : D**

**Oh, and 'Piss off!' is courtesy of Chef Gordon Ramsay. I love him. xD**


	6. Miscommunications Part 1 : Sweden

**I could see how I WANTED this chapter to play out so clearly in mind, I just hope I did the idea justice.**

**Chapter Pairings: Sweden x Finland, hinting at Denmark x Norway**

**6. Miscommunications Part 1 (Sweden)**

* * *

Sweden was as happy as he could ever remember being. He even allowed the corners of his mouth to turn up slightly as he sighed contentedly.

He was sitting on a couch, with his favorite person in the world wrapped in his arms: his little Finland. It was the first time since school had started back up that they'd been able to go out like a regular couple, and Sweden was enjoying it. They'd come to a cute little shop in town, a place that was both a bookstore and a café. They'd shared a pastry and had some hot chocolate and were now just resting, snuggled up, in the quiet store. No one else was nearby.

Sweden tightened his grasp around his boyfriend and laid his head on the other's shoulder, reassuring himself that this was real, he wasn't dreaming or fantasizing. His eyes were closed, but he could tell that Finland was blushing from the heat radiating from his face.

"This's n'ce," he murmured against Finland's neck, brushing the soft flesh with his lips. Finland made a soft noise of agreement and a few moments later, Sweden felt a hand on his face, delicately tracing along his jawline, tickling him ever so slightly.

"Su-san?" He heard Finland say in a quiet voice that seemed to tremble slightly. Sweden opened his eyes and lifted his head so he could look directly at him. Finland's eyes were brighter than usual, and Sweden saw that he hadn't been mistaken; he _was_ blushing deeply.

"Wh't?" he questioned softly, trying his best to not scare his boyfriend. He knew that sometimes his face and voice came off the wrong way, so he tried not to talk too much, especially when it looked like Finland had something he wanted to say. Like now.

"Su-san, I've been w-wanting to tell you…" the small boy stammered, and Sweden could actually see and feel him shaking. Sweden was a little concerned, and his eyebrows furrowed slightly. Finland's eyes, which until then had been staring pointedly around the area of Sweden's collarbone, suddenly darted up to his brow and an involuntary noise of distress seemed to issue from his throat. Still, he seemed to get himself back under control and swallowed hard. With his eyes squeezed tightly shut now, he tried again. "Su-san," he whispered. Then, suddenly switching from his pet-name to his real name, he blurted out, "Berwald, I…I love you!"

At first, Sweden was taken aback. That wasn't what he'd been expecting at all, and it left his mind blank and dazed for a few seconds. He could only stare at Finland, who continued to keep his eyes closed, as though he were expecting a bomb to go off. Eventually Finland cracked open an eye, peeking up in such an innocent, bewildered, adorable way that it made Sweden's heart ache.

'_I love you!'_

The sound of Finland's voice saying that simple sentence was still ringing in Sweden's ears. It was the first time either of them had dared to use the L-word aloud in this relationship, and his heart was racing at just the thought of it. He could feel himself blushing a little, despite his best efforts to remain calm.

"Su-san?" Finland asked again, almost inaudibly. He looked scared, and now his eyes weren't just bright, they looked close to tears.

_Ah, I've waited too long to say something!_ Sweden realized. He'd just been sitting there with his mouth hanging slightly open, watching and thinking and feeling, but not saying anything. "I-" he started, but suddenly found his voice failing him. Finland watched him closely, expectantly…fearfully.

_This is easy, I just have to tell him that I love him, too._ But when he went to form the words, again, his throat seemed to close in on itself. He knew how he felt, he just couldn't say it. He'd never been a man of words: he'd always found that actions got him farther in life, anyways. _Maybe I should just…_

Abandoning the idea of _saying_ it, he instead grabbed Finland by the shoulders and pressed their mouths together. In his haste, he was a little rougher than he intended, but he hoped he could convey what he was feeling with this single kiss.

But Finland broke away from him. He shifted backwards, away from Sweden, and looked at him, confused. Sweden cursed himself, figuring that he hadn't handled the situation well. He shook his head quickly, to clear his mind, and said, "I'm s'rry."

Okay. He was starting over now. He was fully intending to go back and to try to just _say_ the words after all, but he never got the chance.

Finland was looking at him, openly mortified, and Sweden wondered exactly what he'd done now. He tried to think of something to say, but before he could even open his mouth, Finland was standing. Now it was obvious that Finland was trying desperately not to cry. Sweden's eyebrows furrowed. _What have I done!_

"Oh…um, I…I understand. I think I'm just…I'm going home." Finland rushed to the door of the shop, pausing to fumble with the coatrack. As he pulled his jacket off the hook, Sweden's, which had hung beside it, fell to the ground, and Finland didn't pick it up. A bell rang as he quickly pushed the door open, but Sweden could still hear a single sob before it shut behind him.

_Oh, no, I've really done it this time…_ Sweden stood and ran to the door too, ignoring his fallen coat for the moment. He rushed out onto the sidewalk and shouted (a rare occurrence for him), "Tino!"

Finland was a decent ways away already, and didn't seem to hear him. Sweden watched him walk for a moment, saw him drag the back of his hand across his face, as though wiping away tears. _God_, _what's wrong with me? What have I done to him?_

...

It had been drizzling earlier, and it was still cloudy and cool out now as Sweden walked back to the school, thinking about what had just happened. It wasn't until he was halfway home, trudging along with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets, and running through the scene for about the seventeenth time, before he realized what must have happened. Now that he thought about it, he had been a total idiot. The sequence of events had gone something like this:

1. Finland had told him he loved him.

2. He hadn't said anything, just stared at him for a full minute or so.

3. Instead of returning Finland's words, he'd grabbed him forcibly by the shoulders and kissed him roughly.

4. When Finland pulled away, he'd shaken his head and said, "I'm sorry."

It was obvious, now. Finland, who was used to having to decipher Sweden's sparse words and understanding the meaning behind them, had misinterpreted his apology as an 'I'm sorry, but I don't feel the same way'. Sweden smacked his forehead and groaned. Finland might have overreacted a little without taking the time to find out what was really going on, it was true. But the boy had been so nervous to begin with, one could hardly blame _him _for freaking out. And Sweden…well, _nothing_ he had done had been of any help.

This wasn't the first time his failure to communicate verbally had caused problems in their relationship. He could clearly remember the day he'd called Finland his girlfriend in front of all their friends; Finland still got mad about that, though it was months ago.

No, it wasn't the first time something like this had happened. But it was by far the worst.

It was getting pretty dark by the time Sweden made it back to the dorm building of their school. He walked the halls of the building, his pace growing slower with every step. He didn't really want to reach his room…the room he shared with Finland.

It had been a happy coincidence to find that he shared a room with his boyfriend this year. They'd known from the start that it might be hard at times, living together, but they had made the decision to not ask for a room change. Still, Sweden hadn't told his parents, as he thought that they might object to it. But he and Finland had never had sex or anything...at least, not yet. Finland had even told him at the beginning of the school year, blushing the whole time in the most adorable way, that he wasn't ready to take that step yet, and Sweden completely respected him for it. He _never_ wanted to do something that made Finland uncomfortable.

Which made this really awkward.

Sweden paused outside their shared room and sighed. There was no point avoiding the inevitable. He took out his key and slowly turned it in the lock. He opened the door and, keeping his eyes downcast, entered the room.

"F'nland?" he asked, using his nation's name just to be careful. It was considered more respectful. But there was no response, and Sweden realized that the room was dark. He lifted his eyes and found himself alone in the room. Finland hadn't even been able to come back here.

Sweden crossed the room, dropping his jacket on the floor and not caring, and ended up standing halfway between the two beds for a few minutes. He considered the empty room with a heavy heart. It seemed utterly lifeless without Finland's bright smile to welcome him. He looked at the desk on Finland's side of the room and noticed a small picture of the two of them. In it, they were sitting on a park bench, gazing at each other, oblivious to the cameraman. Finland was holding a white daisy, which Sweden had picked for him earlier that day, loosely in his hand, and Sweden was actually smiling gently as he looked at his boyfriend. It had been taken by one of Finland's friends for an art project on candid photos, but when the small blonde had seen it, he'd loved it so much that he'd gotten it framed.

Sweden almost smiled at the memory, but his mind tossed up one of those unpleasant thoughts that brains always seem to be holding just beneath the surface for moments like this.

_What if I can't fix it this time? What if he doesn't want to see me again after this? What if…we're done? _

The realization that he might have ruined his first relationship, and with a stupid misunderstanding, finally hit home and he broke down, his hard exterior melting away as tears formed in his eyes. A choking sob escaped his lips and he covered his mouth with a trembling hand, but he was unable to stop himself now that he'd started.

Unsure of exactly why he did so, he grabbed one of the pillows off of Finland's bed before collapsing onto his own. He stared at the ceiling for a minute before taking off his glasses and turning to face the wall. He pressed the pillow against his face and inhaled deeply. It smelled like Finland, which only renewed Sweden's nearly-stopped tears. But that was okay, because crying felt…good right now. Sweden usually kept his emotions mostly to himself, and he couldn't even remember the last time he'dcried; so when he finally reached his breaking point, he liked to let everything out, to empty himself.

After a few more minutes, his tears had reduced to the occasional hiccup or sniffle. He rolled over in his bed and looked towards Finland's across the room, though it was almost completely black and impossible to see, especially without his glasses. He wished that he could have Finland at his side again, curled up in his bed with him, whispering comforting words; a not so far-fetched idea, since Finland ended up in Sweden's bed one way or another a few nights a week, anyways. It felt lonely without him.

Still hugging the pillow to his chest, a poor substitute for a living, breathing, body, he thought back to what had been, impossibly, barely an hour ago.

'_Berwald, I…I love you!'_

Sweden's chest ached as he thought of how Finland's face, his voice, his body, his everything, had been at that moment.

_And I was too weak to say it back to him. Why couldn't I have just said that I… _"I love 'im," he whispered into the dark. His eyes stayed dry for the rest of the night, but it was many hours before he fell asleep, still clutching Finland's pillow.

…

Sweden awoke the next morning feeling hollow inside. However, he'd cried his tears last night, and now he just went about his morning routine like a robot, without any feeling or interest in what he was doing. He was lost in his own thoughts, now focusing on how to fix the mess he'd gotten himself into.

Apologizing about ten million times would be first, but it didn't seem like enough, somehow. _I really hurt him this time…he was expecting to hear the words said back to him, and when I just couldn't do it, he assumed the worst. Just saying sorry won't tell him that I _do _love him. I need to find another way to show him…_

He gloomily tossed ideas around as he walked to breakfast, definitely feeling the empty space at his side that was usually filled with cheerful, talkative Finland. When he entered the cafeteria, he paused, suddenly hesitating. He didn't know where to sit. He always sat with Finland…he really didn't have that many other friends.

His gaze roamed around the large room, noticing how several people averted their eyes if they met his. It wasn't much of a secret; a lot of people at this school were afraid of him. He was a big kid with what had been described as a 'scary' face, and he wasn't very talkative. To be honest, he didn't really know most of the students that he'd been at school with for three years. Finland had been the only one he'd _wanted_ to get to know.

Still, he kept looking for a friendly face, and his heart stopped as he noticed familiar violet eyes returning his stare. Finland was far across the room, but to Sweden, his face was as clear as though he were only a few feet away. Sweden could tell, even from this distance, that Finland had been crying. His eyes were puffy, his nose was red, and he looked tired. After a few seconds, Finland dropped his eyes, looking down at the table, and then at the boy on his right.

Now Sweden looked for the first time at who Finland was sitting with. He recognized him as one of Finland's friends: Estonia. Sweden had always thought Estonia was a nice guy, though he didn't know him that well. However, it wasn't Estonia that Sweden was concerned about; it was one of the others that came with him.

You could never find Estonia without three, very specific, others. There was Latvia, Lithuania, and, of course, their infamous leader, Russia. Russia was possibly the only kid in school who could be considered scarier than Sweden. He was always smiling, but there just something really…off about him. There were rumors that Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania only hung out with him all the time out of fear for their lives, or that they owed him something. Sweden really didn't like seeing Finland sitting at the table with the creepily grinning Russian, who seemed to be scooching closer to Finland even as he watched.

Still, there was nothing he could do just now. He sighed and continued searching the cafeteria until his eyes lit upon a few relatively friendly faces. Okay, at least they didn't shy away when he looked at them. Norway, Denmark, and Iceland. Really, Finland had been the one to introduce them all, but Sweden had grown to like Norway and Iceland as friends. He wasn't exactly the biggest fan of the Danish kid, but you'd be hard-pressed to find Norway without him nowadays, so Sweden found that he could put up with him if the occasion called for it.

He got his food and weaved his way across the room and sat down, without a word, next to Iceland, with Norway and Denmark across from him. All three of them stopped their conversation abruptly as he dropped down into the seat, which was much too low for his liking. His long legs always felt crammed under the table. He ducked his head for a moment to try and rearrange his legs comfortably, and when he looked up to start eating his food, he found all three of the boys staring at him.

"Hm?" he grunted. His way of asking what was up.

They all looked away quickly, going back to their own food. Norway and Iceland, through one of those eerie coincidences in life, were both boys with naturally inexpressive faces, so Sweden really couldn't tell what they were thinking. But Denmark was the complete opposite. He was loud, boisterous, and not afraid to tell people things they might not want to hear. And he was looking at Sweden again, like he wanted to say something.

"So…" he eventually said around a bite of waffle. He swallowed. "What's up with you and Finland?"

Sweden glanced up sharply. "Wh't do you kn'w 'bout it?" he asked, his voice edged with anger.

"Eh, not much," Denmark said carelessly with a shrug. "It's just that he showed up at our room, crying, last night, but wouldn't tell us why…so I figured it had to do with _you_." Sweden knew that Denmark wasn't terribly fond of _him_, either, but the way he'd said that last part was just too much.

"Wh't was th't?" he growled threateningly, gripping the edge of the table to prevent himself from jumping right up and punching Denmark in the face.

Denmark seemed to drop his nonchalant attitude and also allowed a little ice in his voice and eyes. "Hey, all I'm saying is that the guy slept on the floor in _our_ room last night because of something _you_ did. So would you mind telling us what the hell it was? Because-"

"Mathias, that's enough," Norway interrupted calmly. Sweden raised an eyebrow as Denmark, after hesitating for a few more seconds, shut his mouth and went back to picking at the remains of his breakfast. _Are they on a first name basis now? _Sweden wondered. Then Norway turned his blank stare on Sweden and said, "He did sleep in our room last night, and we _would_ like our privacy back. So make up with him. Soon."

Sweden nodded sullenly and also went back to eating. _I wish, but easier said than done…_

He spent the rest of breakfast observing his tablemates, but not saying a word. Iceland was very quiet, as usual, so Sweden spent the majority of his time watching the other two, which turned out to be very interesting. He hadn't spent a lot of time with Norway recently, since the other had started hanging out with Denmark so much, but there was definitely something going on between the two. Denmark, though just as loud and annoying as usual, seemed to hang on to every word that Norway spoke, and seemed awfully comfortable around him. Even Norway, though constantly disagreeing with Denmark, seemed a little more relaxed and open than Sweden usually saw him. Then there was the fact that they were roommates, and that Norway had used Denmark's first name…

_Are they…dating?_ Sweden wondered. That's what it really looked like to him, but somehow, Sweden had a hard time wrapping his mind around Norway dating _anyone,_ let alone the outgoing Dane.

_But even if they are, it's none of my business… _he thought, sneaking another glance in Finland's direction. The little blonde boy was smiling at Estonia, but Sweden could tell it was forced. He thought of what Denmark had said, how he'd shown up at his and Norway's room crying last night. It made his stomach churn to know that Finland had been hurt so badly by one little miscommunication. And he was ashamed because he still didn't know how to fix it.

He looked back at Norway and Denmark without really seeing them, his mind far, far away. _I need some help…or at least some advice,_ he thought, _but I don't really have many friends to ask…_He gave a small, quiet sigh in defeat. But then, as he refocused on his current setting, he looked at Norway, who was currently fending off a snickering Dane from doing _whatever_, and it occurred to him.

_I'll talk to Norway._

* * *

**OH MY GOD, I'M NOT A LIAR, I SWEAR. I said that there would be a fluffy SuFin, and there WILL be fluff, just bear with me until part 2! xD DON'T HATE ME!**

**Oh man, this was a tough one to write. Poor Sweden! It was so hard to make him cry like that! But he's only human (in this story) after all, it had to be done… And then I've never written Denmark or Norway before…GAH! Though I better get over it, since each of them will have their own chapters later on. ; )**


	7. Miscommunications Part 2 : Sweden

**Uh, I don't have a lot to say. Hope you enjoy part two!**

**Chapter Pairings: Sweden x Finland, hinting at Denmark x Norway**

**Chapter 7: Miscommunications Part 2 (Sweden)**

* * *

The same day he'd nearly gotten into a fight with Denmark over breakfast, Sweden caught up with Norway after school let out. "N'rway," he said, jogging to catch up with the much smaller boy. Thankfully, Denmark was nowhere to be seen. Norway slowed a bit, and Sweden fell into step beside him.

"What?" Norway asked him in his monotone voice.

"C'n we…talk?" Sweden asked, somewhat awkwardly. He hadn't really made much of a plan beyond getting Norway's attention.

"I guess. Right now?" Sweden nodded in response. "Okay. My room will be empty."

Sweden followed Norway down the hall of the dorm building. He could hear the happy chatter of the other boys as they went to their dorms or the common room to hang out or do homework. Sweden could imagine Finland walking along with Estonia, or Iceland maybe, putting on a smile for his friends while inside he was hurting just as badly as Sweden himself was. At least Sweden didn't feel any pressure to wear a false smile, and he didn't have to talk to anyone if he didn't want to. There were _some_ advantages to being known as an outcast.

Then again, he'd been stewing in his own doubts and worries all day without anyone to tell them about.

Norway let them into the room and excused himself, dropping his schoolbag in a chair before walking into the bathroom. Sweden took the chance to look around the room, finding it somewhat amusing to compare what were quite clearly the sides belonging to Norway and Denmark.

Norway's bed was perfectly made, his desktop was clear of unnecessary things, and the couple pairs of shoes he had were lined up in a perfectly straight row beside the bed. The only personal item, the only thing that told Sweden a teenage boy _actually_ lived there, was a book on the nightstand that was slightly askew, a corner of it hanging over the edge of the table. Sweden crossed the room and picked it up, but it was written in Norwegian. Though Swedish and Norwegian are actually very similar languages, the title was a word unfamiliar to Sweden, and he didn't try to puzzle it out.

Putting the book back down, he took a glance over at the other side of the room. Here, the bed was unmade, clothes (dirty or clean, Sweden wasn't sure) covered the floor space, and papers and other random objects littered the desk. Quite a few schoolbooks, some of which Sweden was _sure_ Denmark would have needed over the course of an entire day, lay around in various strange places. A couple were tangled in the blankets on the bed, one was on the nightstand being used as a coaster, and Sweden saw one propping up what looked like a picture of Denmark with his family.

_How did he ever get into this school…_ he wondered at the apparent lack of enthusiasm towards academics. He turned as he heard the door to the bathroom opening behind him, and Norway walked out, his face still as blank as always, but he'd taken his blazer off and his body language was slightly more relaxed.

"What do you want?" Norway asked, getting right to the point. He sank into the desk chair and gestured toward the one on Denmark's side of the room. Sweden looked at it, but decided he'd rather not take a chance that the suspect jeans were clean. Instead he sat on Norway's pristine bed, ignoring the slight crinkling of the other's brow as he did so.

Now that he was here, Sweden felt nervous. How should he approach the subject? He cleared his throat, but instead of answering Norway's question, he asked one himself. "H'w close are you an' D'nmark?" He wanted to know because if Norway really _did_ have a boyfriend, maybe he'd be better able to understand Sweden's situation.

Sweden was amazed at Norway's reaction to his simple question. His cheeks tinged with red and his eyes grew bright, as though he were angry. For Norway, it was an impressive display of emotion. "If that's what you want to talk about, then you can get out," he said with a voice like steel.

Sweden didn't understand. Had he said something wrong _again_? "No," he said quickly, trying to bounce back as best he could. "I…I need h'lp. With T'no."

Norway relaxed slightly at that. His eyes lost that gleam, at least. "Oh. Yes, you do. What happened?"

In as few words as possible, Sweden explained what had happened the day before. Norway shook his head in exasperation when Sweden described how he simply couldn't say the words, 'I love you', but other than that, he listened quietly and sat still the whole time. His impossible-to-read face made it difficult for Sweden to know what he thought of the whole ordeal, so when he was finished retelling it, he just had to wait patiently for a response.

Eventually, Norway stirred from where he'd been sitting, thinking, and he looked at Sweden. "I think you can still fix it, though…I don't really know what you should do."

Sweden was dismayed. He'd been hoping for a little more advice or help than that! "Ya don't?" he asked.

Norway shrugged. "No. Why should I?_"_

"You an' D'nmark fight all the t'me…" The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. He bit his lip and hoped that, somehow, Norway hadn't noticed.

He'd noticed. His reaction wasn't quite the same as last time, though his nostrils flared a little as he spoke. "What does that have to do with anything? Mathias-" Norway stopped himself and started his sentence over. "_Denmark_ and I may fight, but we're not going out like you and Finland are. It's completely different." He crossed his arms and though his faced stayed blank, Sweden could sense that he was a little flustered.

He decided to let it go, since it seemed to be a touchy subject, though he was still highly suspicious. "So wh't should _I_ do?"

"I told you, I don't know." Norway looked down at the floor for a minute, and Sweden followed his gaze, unwilling to break the silence now. Eventually Norway sighed. "I have homework to do."

"Oh. 'Kay." Sweden stood and Norway walked him to the door. Just as he stepped into the hallway, he heard Norway's voice very quietly behind him.

"I'm sorry that I can't be more help. I know it's not easy. Good luck."

Surprised at the almost gentleness that Norway had spoken with, Sweden turned to say something else to him, but found the door had already been shut behind him.

He looked at the closed door thoughtfully for a minute before shrugging and turning. He considered going to the common room to do his own homework, but thought there was a good chance Finland would be there, rather than risking their dorm. And while Sweden knew that he had to talk to Finland eventually to sort this whole mess out, he really wanted to have some sort of a plan before he sought him out. Otherwise, knowing him, he'd probably make things worse.

So instead of taking a right, he took a left, walking deeper into the dorm building. His room wasn't very far from Norway's, just down the hall a piece. As he approached his destination, he noticed an unfamiliar figure leaning against the wall near what appeared to be _his_ door. It wasn't Finland, he knew that…

"Fr'nce?" he asked as he stopped in front of the boy. France smiled up at him and nodded.

Sweden had maybe spoken three words to France in as many years. They'd had a couple classes together before, but Sweden couldn't even remember which ones, now. They'd definitely never spoken outside of the classroom. So he had no idea why France would be waiting for him outside his room, and Sweden looked at him, asking the question with his eyes.

"Ah, you are wondering why I am here." France flicked his head to one side slightly, swinging some of his long hair out of his face. It seemed like a habit, like France didn't even miss a beat to do it, Sweden observed.

He nodded, though France's statement had hardly sounded like a question. France smiled broader and continued. "I heard that you had a little…lover's quarrel with poor Finland."

Sweden wanted to groan aloud. Did everyone know about it? "And?" he asked.

France took a step closer to Sweden and said in a slightly lowered, husky voice, "I just thought that I'd offer you my services in your time of need, of course."

Something about this whole situation made Sweden extremely uncomfortable. France's reputation preceded him. Sweden had heard that he was always with different partners, boy or girl, and that he never cared to form any type of long-term relationship. He wasn't even all that close with his own friends. He was overbearing and addressed everyone as 'dear' or 'darling' or something similar, but he was really just distancing himself from everybody. It made him extremely difficult to get close to. Not that Sweden himself had ever tried, and he certainly wasn't about to start _now_; especially not the way France seemed to be suggesting.

"I don't need wh'tever yer off'ring…" he mumbled, blushing slightly. France laughed at his discomfort.

"Oh, nothing like that! I wouldn't dream of it! No, no, I meant my _help_. I want to help you make up with Finland."

Sweden was relieved to hear _that_. But he was also slightly suspicious. "…Why?"

France winked at him. "Don't worry about it. I have my reasons."

That didn't make Sweden feel any better. He stared directly at France, using that 'scary' face of his, until the smaller boy began shifting uncomfortably. "All right, I'll tell you!" He sighed and Sweden finally felt like he was talking to the _real_ France. He sounded a little less flamboyantly cheerful and a touch more serious. "I've been eyeing that Estonian kid, but when I went over to talk to him today, I found Finland hanging around him. Estonia is _so_ concerned with his little friend that he completely blew me off." France huffed as though he couldn't believe it, blowing a few strands of hair off his forehead. Then he smiled again. "So I just thought it was in _everybody's_ best interests if you and Finland were on good terms again."

Sweden nodded slowly, thinking. He really _did_ need all the help he could get. And though France wasn't known for keeping relationships, somehow he was always seducing people. So just because he wasn't interested in a steady relationship wasn't proof that he didn't _know_ about them. And Finland was out there somewhere, right now, believing that Sweden didn't love him.

Finland was too important for him to lose over something so stupid. He was willing to take a risk.

"C'mon," he said at last, unlocking the door and leading the way. France followed, with a slight giggle that made Sweden a little nervous about what he'd just agreed to.

…

Sweden was tense. After his talk with France yesterday, everything had _seemed_ like it was falling into place, but now he wasn't so sure.

It was before classes started for the day, and Sweden was waiting alone in an autumn garden.

In the middle of the school building was a large, open rectangle that's primary function was to house a sustainable garden. Students, faculty, and members of the local community tended to this garden all year (besides winter, of course). In the summer, it was full of vegetables and flowers and was actually quite beautiful. But right now, Sweden just felt distinctly out of place among the fading tomato plants.

This was all France's idea. Sweden had explained that they hadn't exactly had a fight, but rather, a misunderstanding. What he really needed was to talk to Finland alone and just tell him the words he needed to hear, but that he still hadn't known the right way to confess his feelings. France had suggested somewhere with a little of what he called 'atmosphere' and declared that the only romantic thing about their school was their garden. Sweden supposed that might be true in the spring and summer, but in September the only things that were blooming were a few large sunflowers and some flowering weeds.

He started pacing now in his nervousness. Finland hadn't returned to their room again last night, so this was the first time he was going talk to him since 'the incident', as he was now calling it in his head. Sweden was clutching a bouquet of flowers in his hand and muttering under his breath, going over everything he and France had discussed the day before. It still didn't stop his stomach from tying itself in knots.

From behind him, he heard the door opening and he turned. His heart began pounding at the sound of Finland's voice.

"France, I don't understand…"

"Just _trust_ me, my dear. Go on!"

"But-"

Finland entered the courtyard abruptly; as though he was shoved from behind. At first, he didn't notice Sweden. He turned to look back at the doorway he'd just been pushed through, probably wondering why he'd been forced into the school garden so early in the morning. He tried the door handle, but it looked like it was being held closed from inside the building. With a little sigh at his fruitless efforts to escape, he looked around the garden for the first time. When his gaze met Sweden's, his eyes widened and he froze.

"Su-san! I-I mean, Sweden! I really w-wasn't expecting…um…" As he stammered to say something, his hand groped for the handle behind him again. He tried it, but found he was still unable to open it, and Sweden heard him make a small noise of desperation. His face was red, and his hand, which still rested on the door handle, was trembling. He sniffed, and Sweden wondered if he was about to cry.

Sweden took a step closer, trying to let his concern show on his face. "T'no…"

"No, it's okay! You don't have to…to come over here!" Finland was hiding his face now, but Sweden could tell that he was close to tears.

He stopped a few feet short of Finland and just watched him. When Finland got emotional, sometimes he babbled. Sweden was waiting to see if anything more was forthcoming. He was rewarded after a minute of silence.

Finland choked out a watery laugh. "I'm sorry you have to see me like this. I didn't…I really didn't want you to. I understand that…you just don't feel the same way I do, and…I'll be fine." Finland bit his lip, and Sweden could only watch as a teardrop ran down his cheek.

He and France had planned out the whole encounter. It was going to be part actual romance, part horrible, but adorable, cheesiness. Sweden was going to get down on one knee, offer Finland the flowers, apologize and tell him how much he loved him, and even beg forgiveness, if he needed to. According to France, it was supposed to be just awkward and sweet enough to work. It would make Finland smile at the very least, to see Sweden looking so ridiculous just for him. That was the plan. That's what was _supposed_ to happen. But neither of them had accounted for _this_; for Finland to start crying right at the start.

France was the self-proclaimed expert on love, but maybe he'd been wrong about what was needed here. Maybe Sweden just needed to finally be clear about his feelings. In any case, he knew that he couldn't just stand there and _wait_ anymore. He had to do something to ease Finland's obvious pain.

"I love you," he said slowly, clearly.

Finland froze, then turned slowly to face Sweden. "What?" he whispered, as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing. Mingled into the disbelief and hurt, though, was a glimmer of hope. Still, he cleared his throat and started to say, "Sweden, I don't underst-"

"I l've you," Sweden said again, cutting him off, marveling at the words, and before he knew it, he was running.

Sweden crossed the distance between them in a second, dropping the flowers to the ground and enfolding Finland in his arms in a single movement. Finland, as though by instinct, gripped Sweden in return, though the expression on his tearstained face made it clear he was still confused. Sweden gently wiped away a tear and tried to explain, to tell him how he felt. "I l've ya, T'no. I do. I'm so s'rry I couldn't say it th' oth'r day…I love you, so much. More'n anyth'ng."

As he spoke, Finland's face transformed from its baffled state, gleaming with relief and comprehension by the end. Sweden was so glad that his boyfriend could understand him like no one else could, sometimes even better than he understood _himself_. He kissed Finland softly on the forehead. "I'm s'rry."

"Oh, Su-san…" Finland whispered, then pressed his face against Sweden's chest. At first he forced out a harsh laugh, but it quickly dissolved into sobs again. Sweden raised a hand to slowly stroke his hair, trying to offer comfort to the boy he'd inadvertently hurt so badly, to the one he now hoped to soothe and ease the pain away from.

"Shh…" he murmured, feeling an enormous weight being lifted from his chest. He had Finland back in his arms. Everything was okay. Somehow, _somehow,_ he'd made this happen.

"I missed you so much!" Finland gasped. He buried his face even deeper against Sweden, actually forcing the larger boy to take a step back from the force of it. Sweden smiled slightly and held Finland even tighter. After a minute, Finland seemed to regain control of himself. He leaned back a little and seemed to notice the flowers on the ground for the first time. "What…what were those for?" he asked, laughing a little, despite the fact that his voice still sounded thick with the tears he'd shed.

Sweden blushed as he looked at them. He'd totally abandoned the original idea they'd had. "They w're for you…but…"

Finland looked delighted. "Really! Aw, that's so sweet." He disentangled himself from Sweden and picked them up, straightening a couple flowers that had fallen out of place when they'd hit the ground. He put them to his nose and inhaled, smiling softly as he did so.

_He looks like a mess…_ Sweden thought affectionately as he watched Finland. His face was red from crying and blushing and whatever else, his hair was disheveled, his uniform was wrinkled, and now he was smiling so gently like that, on top of it all.

Sweden walked up behind him and wrapped his arms around Finland again, resting his chin on his lover's head. He drank in Finland's presence, letting it wash over him and calm him, wishing they could stay like this forever.

"Berwald," Finland said a moment later. "I don't know what happened the other day, and I don't care anymore. I'm just…really happy right now. I never wanted to…to believe that you didn't..." he couldn't finish the sentence, but Sweden understood.

He hummed in agreement. "B't I _am_ s'rry," he added softly.

Finland turned around in his arms so that they were facing each other. "Me too." Then he smiled shyly up at Sweden, just like he always did before they kissed. He stood up on his toes and Sweden leaned down slightly, and their lips met gently, almost hesitantly at first, as though testing each other. Both parties were apparently satisfied with what they found, but just as Sweden went to deepen the kiss, the bell rang for first period.

Finland pulled back, looking surprised. Sweden felt the same way on the inside. He'd completely forgotten that such a thing as _classes_ could exist. They seemed entirely insignificant right now, but he knew they really couldn't afford to be late.

"C'mon," he said, taking Finland by the hand. Finland smiled warmly as they pushed open the door, which was no longer being blocked from the inside.

It hadn't gone exactly as planned, but as Finland gave his hand a squeeze, Sweden thought that he just might have to thank France one of these days.

* * *

**Poor France. I get the feeling it's not going to work out with Estonia… Oh! But the courtyard has made its first appearance! This garden is based on a real-life sustainable garden that I volunteer at, located in my own high school. Pay attention! This courtyard will actually be very important in upcoming chapters. It's a popular location for romantic encounters, it seems. xD**

**By the way, Denmark's side of the room…based on my own bedroom, of course. xD (And the clothes are clean, no worries, haha)**


	8. My Creepy Russian Friend : Latvia

**This is the second time I've written Russia from someone else's perspective…it's kind of fun, I like doing it. And it's strangely…easy? Is that a bad thing!? xD Well…I hope this chapter doesn't come across as too, like, depressing… That really wasn't the intention, though I'm afraid I always get more serious than I want to! I hope you keep that in mind. Don't take it TOO seriously, please... xD**

**Chapter Pairings: None**

**Chapter 8: My Creepy Russian Friend (Latvia)**

* * *

Latvia sank down lower in his chair, wishing he could just disappear. History class had barely begun, but he could already tell that it would be a rough day. Their teacher, a tired, middle-aged gentleman, didn't seem to be in the best mood right now. Especially since an out-of-breath Finland had run in a minute after the bell, apologizing for being late even before he'd opened the door all the way. Finland hadn't gotten in trouble for it, possibly because he looked as though he might start crying at any second, but their teacher hadn't seemed amused, all the same. Nope, Latvia was _not_ looking forward to today's lesson. Though, admittedly, the teacher's bad mood wasn't the only reason…

He felt a hand weighing down heavily on his shoulder and though he shuddered slightly, he pretended not to notice it for the time being. He stared at the front of the room, where the teacher was currently writing something on the whiteboard, though Latvia hardly knew what they were studying. Were they talking about American history? He didn't remember. He always found it difficult to concentrate in this class.

His eyes followed the marker in the teacher's hand as he wrote slowly, carefully, printing the heading clearly. An E, then a C, O, N… _Economy or economics_, he guessed to distract himself, still desperately trying to ignore the fingers now trailing along his upper back. As the hand touched the bare flesh on the nape of his neck, he could barely suppress a whimper, but he clamped his mouth shut and kept his eyes glued to the front of the room. He was definitely shaking now. _I can do this, I can get through this class, I can do this_-

It was the whisper that broke him.

"Why are you shaking? You are cold, _da_?" At the sound of the mildly concerned voice, he could no longer pretend. His eyes flicked back to the boy sitting in the desk directly behind his, and his heart felt faint at the sight of that familiar, vague smile.

"I'm fine, Russia," he practically mouthed, hardly any sound escaping his throat. He wanted to turn back around and face the board, but something in Russia's eyes told him he shouldn't yet. He gulped and stared pointedly at the surface of Russia's desk, waiting to see if he had anything else to tell him. But Russia just continued smiling, not saying anything. _What's he waiting for…?_

"Latvia!" their teacher's voice snapped. Latvia jumped and quickly turned around, blushing.

"Sorry!" he squeaked.

The slightly balding man sighed and asked wearily, "What can you tell me about the economy of antebellum America?"

"Uh…" Latvia panicked as he tried to simply comprehend the question itself. _Antebellum? What is that, Latin? Are they asking me questions in Latin now!?_ Eventually he remembered that, in this case, _antebellum_ referred to the time leading up to the American Civil War. Oh. That's right. He _had_ read about this, a night or two ago, in their textbook. He'd been thorough and had diligently taken notes on it. But that didn't really help him now, since his scare with Russia had left his mind totally blank and his notes were probably buried in his bag somewhere. "Um…well…"

Behind him, Russia giggled innocently at his failure to come up with answer, which only made it harder to concentrate. He glanced to his left and found his friend Estonia looking back with sympathy in his eyes, but he didn't exactly offer up any answers.

"I…I don't know," he murmured eventually. It was embarrassing, to not have _anything_ to give as an answer. This was a private school and the boys here, though they sometimes seemed careless, were actually very academically competitive. Out of the corner of his eye, Latvia saw Prussia from a few seats down shoot a smug look at his cousin, Germany.

_He's making fun of me_, Latvia thought, and, mortified, he slid down further in his seat. He was a small kid, so he should be barely visible by now. That would be ideal.

The teacher, after giving him a slightly disappointed look, had moved on and asked Austria the same question, promptly receiving the answer he was looking for. He went back to writing on the board, now drawing two columns labeled 'North' and 'South', and went on to explain some of Austria's points in more depth.

Latvia miserably scribbled down some notes and prayed that he wouldn't be called on for the rest of the class. He was hardly surprised when he felt Russia's hand on his back again, pulling at the collar of his jacket and otherwise being annoying. Really, this sort of thing had been happening more and more, lately. He had almost gotten used to it, actually; though he still hated it. Why did _he_ have to be the one to sit in front of Russia? He stared at the clock, willing it to go faster. There was still more than an hour left of class, and his shoulders slumped slightly in distress.

As the lecture about the differing economies of the northern and southern states continued, Russia slowly grew bored of poking and playing with Latvia and withdrew his hand. Latvia finally got some peace. Well, _that_ was an improvement, at least. He sat up a little straighter and paid more attention to the class, knowing that this material would be on a test eventually.

After ten minutes of nothing from Russia, Latvia was feeling good. He even raised his hand to answer a question as the memory from his readings the night before began to come back. He didn't get called on, but he'd made the _effort_. _Maybe I _can _get through this… _he thought optimistically. _Maybe…_

Then Russia grabbed a few hairs from the back of his head and pulled. Hard.

He gave a yelp, a combination of surprise and pain. The teacher, and everyone else in the class, turned collectively and gave him a look.

"I-I'm sorry…" he stuttered. His teacher did not seem impressed. He looked downright annoyed, truth be told.

"Latvia, I will have to ask you to stay after class if you disrupt again."

"Y-yes, sir," Latvia whispered. Russia laughed gently and gave him a little pat on the head.

No, his first instincts were right. It was going to be a _long_ day.

…

It hadn't always been like this.

Latvia's freshman year had been relatively normal. He'd met Estonia and Lithuania during their first week, and the three of them had stuck together ever since, inseparable. Latvia wasn't even sure why they were such close friends, but he'd always felt really comfortable with them; he found them easy to be around. He'd had some other friends during freshman year, too, most notably Poland. Poland and Lithuania were close friends, and he was the unofficial fourth member of their little Baltic group. And there were a few others, too. But…after sophomore year, most of those others began avoiding them. Because that's when they'd met _Russia._

The three of them, Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia, had never really interacted with the strange, intimidating Russian boy before. He'd been pretty much a loner the entire first year of school, keeping to himself. Although one always had the feeling that he was constantly watching everything around him, and the small smile always tugging at his lips didn't exactly inspire trust in those who saw it. In all honesty, the guy kind of creeped Latvia out, but really, he just seemed a little sad and lonely.

So when Russia had approached _them_ during their first week back at school, they hadn't known exactly how to handle it. He sort of forced his way into their small group, deaf to any and all hints that he was not wanted there. He had this sort of obliviousness about him, as though he lived in his own little world where the three boys from the Baltic nations and Poland were his best friends, and they didn't exactly have a say in it. He'd slowly inserted himself into their friendship, becoming more and more comfortable around them, spending more time with them, as the weeks and months went on. It eventually got to the point where Latvia suddenly realized one day that Russia was _always_ around, _always_ in their presence. Still, Latvia hadn't minded _so_ much at first. He just thought the kid wanted some companionship, and though he was kind of weird, he was harmless, right?

Oh how wrong he'd been.

At that point, midway through sophomore year, there had been five of them. Latvia, Lithuania, Estonia, Poland, and Russia. But ever since Russia had shown up, Poland and Lithuania's friendship had become strained. Poland thought that Russia was bad news, but Lithuania was just too quiet and reserved to speak up against him. Then, one day, Poland had just disappeared. Latvia didn't know exactly what had happened, because Lithuania never spoke of it, but he'd hardly even seen the Polish boy in the last two years or so. Poland had been the first casualty, the first sign that something about Russia was _wrong_. But it had been too late, at that point.

Russia became their self-appointed 'leader' after Poland left, and none of them had been able to stop him. Latvia himself was just too eager to please and too frightened to disappoint anybody, even Russia, to challenge him; not to mention, Russia's superior size and strength definitely scared him. Lithuania hadn't seemed to be able to say _anything_ to Russia ever since the Poland incident, and Latvia always wondered if there was some deeper layer to the relationship between the two of them that he couldn't quite see. And Estonia; well, Estonia just remained calm about the whole thing, and he somehow didn't seem too concerned about it. He always managed to avoid the worst of Russia's madness. So, without any resistance, Russia inserted himself into their lives, telling them what to do and when and how to do it, all the while getting a perverse satisfaction out of it. And things had _continued_ to go downhill from there, at least, for Latvia.

Russia had discovered his favorite pastime of harassing Latvia sometime during junior year. Anything that caused Latvia to react, verbally, physically, visibly; _anything_ that showed some level of discomfort seemed to just light up Russia's life like nothing else. But that wasn't even the worst thing. Russia didn't even seem to _realize_ he was doing it. He was always asking Latvia if he was feeling okay, or why he looked so scared, or why he was shaking. Like he still lived in that little fantasy world where everything was good and normal, and he was just a regular, concerned friend. Or like there were two different Russias, the tormentor and the caretaker. It was unnerving.

The paranoia and irritation from all those little things that Russia did just kept adding up, until Latvia lived in constant fear for the moment when Russia would do something _really _bad. And the sad part was that even though Latvia knew that it was coming, he couldn't _do_ anything about it. He always hoped that if he just made Russia happy, maybe he'd get left alone. It had yet to happen, but Latvia tried to remain optimistic, and did his best to please the overbearing Russian, despite the cost.

All he could do was keep trying, right?

…

History class was finally, _finally_, almost over. It had seemed like the longest hour and a half of Latvia's life. Now, with only five minutes left, Latvia was sitting on the edge of his seat, leg jiggling under his desk as he waited to make a run for the door the instant the bell rang (if Russia didn't make him stay back and carry his books or something).

That's when their teacher uttered the words that every awkward schoolchild most dreads.

"We'll be working on a partner project on the American Civil War all next week. You can choose your own partner, but only two in a group. When you've chosen, come up and I'll give you a topic and a rubric." Then he sat down at his desk and sorted a stack of papers, probably completely unaware of the panic now rampaging through Latvia's chest as the boys around him rose from their seats and called to their friends across the room. Partner projects, a common object of dislike in high schools, were especially hated by the three Baltic representatives because of an obvious reason.

Quickly, Latvia turned to his left, only to find Lithuania and Estonia already standing together and walking towards the teacher's desk. Lithuania shot back an apologetic look, but he didn't jump to offer Latvia any assistance or anything. Not that there was anything he could do, anyways, at this point. Latvia no longer had a choice.

He gulped and took a few seconds to mentally prepare himself before he turned around slowly in his seat, his head hanging somewhat as he faced Russia's desk.

"Uh, Russia…" he said, hearing his voice tremble slightly. He cleared his throat and continued, "I'll go get the rubric! I mean, if you want…"

"What? What are you talking about, Latvia? Did _you_ want to be my partner? Are you shaking again?" Russia sounded overjoyed with the last sentence, which was pretty normal, but the rest of it baffled Latvia. He finally raised his eyes and found Russia standing beside the desk of a (dare he describe him as pretty?) long-haired, delicately-featured Asian boy. It was obvious they were going to be working together.

_Isn't that China?_ Latvia wondered, feeling an enormous weight being lifted off his chest and he spoke quickly. "Oh, uh, no! No, no, no! Sorry! I mean, not that I wouldn't _want_ to, but if you already…I mean, I just thought that…that, uh…" Russia seemed amused as Latvia continued struggling for a few seconds before coming up with a somewhat plausible excuse. "That I would offer to get your rubric for you guys…?" he finally said somewhat lamely, and at Russia's smile, he sighed resignedly and walked to the front of the room.

He took four papers (turns out the topics were randomly selected and included on the separate rubrics), for Russia, China, himself and his…partner. His shoulders slumped as he realized he still had to find _someone_ who would want to do this project with him. He couldn't _remember_ the last time he'd had the choice to pick someone other than Russia or Estonia for a partner (Poland and Lithuania had _always_ chosen each other back in the day, and now Russia usually took him), and he didn't have any other close friends. Boys milled around him as the class began dividing itself into pairs, and Latvia just had to find where _he_ fit into it all now that he had a little freedom, a new concept. A somewhat _frightening_ concept.

_Yup, it's gonna be a long, _long_ day_, he thought with a little half smile as he handed Russia his papers and then struck out into the crowd. But there was something exciting about this. Something new. Russia had deliberately chosen someone else to be his partner, which felt like a good sign to Latvia. Maybe he'd finally succeeded in pleasing the Russian enough to deserve a break. Maybe Russia had gotten bored with the Baltic boys after all this time and was moving on. Latvia felt a small smile on his lips at the thought.

The grin on his face widened as he saw that another quiet student, Canada, was still partner-less. He approached the shy boy with as much confidence as he could muster (which wasn't much, but still) and couldn't help but think; _maybe things really _are_ going to get better!_

But somehow, as he slipped on a stray paper lying on the floor and heard Russia's mild, yet condescending, laugh floating from across the room as he fell flat on his back, he still had his doubts.

* * *

**I'm sorry, I feel like a lot of these earlier chapters are really just setting up relationships and situations that will be resolved later. : ( I hope you aren't finding it too boring, it WILL get more interesting, I think, as time goes on… *crosses fingers***

**By the way, I hate choosing partners for projects… xD I'M SUCH AN AWKWARD CHILD!**


	9. Let's Become One! : Russia

**Sorry it's been a long wait. I've been writing other stories, though I suppose that isn't really any excuse! Also, a note on this chapter: this is from RUSSIA'S perspective. Therefore, he perceives a lot of things, especially things about himself, INCORRECTLY. So no, I didn't go insane and start writing about what a nice guy Russia is all of a sudden, that is merely a misconception. **

**Got it? Okay. xD**

**Chapter Pairings: Russia x China (one-sided)**

**9. Let's Become One! (Russia)**

* * *

When Russia had heard that they were starting a project in history class, he hadn't been overly excited. But when he'd heard that it was to be a _partner_ project, he'd felt a grin slowly growing on his face. He loved spending time with his friends, and they were always so eager to work.

He glanced to his left, and saw that Lithuania and Estonia were already partnered up. But that was fine. Because little Latvia sat right in front of him.

He reached out a hand to give Latvia's hair a good, solid tug when something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. It was the end of China's swinging ponytail as he turned his head, looking for a partner. And an idea that made him smile occurred to him.

Why should he be partners with Latvia _again_? He and Latvia were already best friends; why not spread out and make some new ones? This China, for instance; he was intelligent and attractive. Russia thought that he would make a worthy addition to his little group of followers… er, friends. And what better way to get to know each other than working together? It was a perfect opportunity.

"China, _da_?" he said, tapping the Asian boy on the shoulder. China turned around and nodded. "Let's become one," he suggested sweetly.

China's eyes widened and he stuttered a surprised, "Wh-what?"

"Would you like to work together?" Russia clarified, giving his biggest, most friendly smile.

"_Aiyah_." China let out a breath of relief before smiling and saying, "Yeah, sure."

Russia stood and joined China at his desk, discussing the project they'd been assigned and reading the rubric together, which Latvia so kindly got for them. After looking over the requirements, they decided it would be necessary to meet the next day after class to work on it. China offered his room as a place to meet, which Russia was happy to hear. This project really _was_ turning out to be fun. And Russia had placed himself very near China, close enough to notice that something he was wearing, or maybe his shampoo, smelled good and vaguely familiar. And Russia's eyes couldn't help but follow his shiny, brown-almost-black hair as he flicked it over his shoulder. Yes, he would enjoy doing this project and getting to know his new friend.

Very much.

...

"Come in, make yourself at home," China said as they stepped over the threshold into his room. Russia glanced around only briefly, knowing that it would look exactly like his did. But then he took another look, because there was something unusual about the whole room. There were personal items on the walls and desks, but…everything was perfectly, unnaturally clean and orderly. Especially the side of the room that didn't have any Chinese keepsakes, which clearly belonged to China's roommate.

"Who is your roommate?" Russia asked, eyeing the bed that was made-up with near-military perfection.

"It's Germany, though he's not here at the moment, _aru_," China said. He seemed to notice that Russia was staring at the abnormal cleanliness and added with a little huff, "He cleans my side of the room, too. Even when I don't ask him to!"

Russia nodded slowly and followed China deeper into the room. The Asian threw his bag on his bed and indicated that Russia could do the same. "Would you like some tea?" he asked, crossing the room.

Russia wasn't much of a tea drinker, but he wanted to seem polite. And he was curious. "Sure," he said, cocking his head to the side and smiling, a gesture he knew was widely considered 'cute'. China returned the smile excitedly.

"Great!" From a drawer in his desk, China pulled out a hot plate, a kettle, a clay teapot, and a few other small cups and things. He set about filling the kettle with spring water, humming softly under his breath, and turned on the hot plate while Russia settled himself on the floor and watched. He was pretty sure that having the hot plate in the room was against more than a few school rules, but he didn't say anything. After all, who hadn't broken a few dozen (or more) school rules in his time?

After the water boiled, China began to prepare the tea itself, which seemed to be a rather ceremonial process to Russia. It even involved several rounds of liquids being poured that were _not_ meant to be drunk, as he learned the hard way when he reached a hand out to take one of the cups and had it slapped away by China.

"Not yet!" He continued preparing the tea with a practiced ease, his eyes nearly closed in contentment, while Russia looked at him in wonder. It was, quite possibly, the first time that anyone had dared to defy him in that way, with a physical blow. It hadn't hurt, but it certainly surprised him. Who was this China, really? Why did he seem different from all the others? It was…fascinating…intriguing…

Enticing.

Russia was no fool. He knew that if he wanted to have China among his group of friends he'd have to approach it from a new angle, because there was_ something_ different about him. And he also wasn't blind to the fact that, for whatever reason, the vast majority of the boys at this school preferred other men over women. He was hoping that China was no exception, and that he may respond to him as a romantic interest. Russia had never been great at making friends; he was shy, and he found that most people simply did not understand him. But this way it would work, he was sure of it.

They chatted a bit while Russia waited for their tea to steep and for China to complete whatever other rituals connected to serving it. Russia felt his lips tug up into a grin every time he heard that little sound China sometimes added at the end of his sentences; that '_aru'_. "Cute," he said one time after hearing it.

"What?"

"That little noise you make, it's cute, _da_?"

"What noise, _aru_?"

"That one you made just now!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, _aru_."

China looked genuinely confused, so Russia dropped it. He also decided to ignore the fact that China hadn't even noticed that he'd called him cute. Maybe he'd just been taken aback by it. Yes, that must be it. He'd get him with the next one, for sure!

China finally served their tea in tiny cups that only held a few ounces at a time, and they began discussing their plans for the history project. The rubric called for a presentation on their designated topic pertaining to the American Civil War. While they talked and China took some notes on their plans, Russia gradually inched closer and closer to him, until eventually their knees touched. China looked up when he noticed, and Russia just smiled as their eyes met. China didn't hold his gaze for long before he glanced away, back down to the paper in his hands. Russia was sure that he could see him blushing. It was working!

Russia was close enough now to be able to smell that delicious shampoo again, which he decided was reminiscent of some familiar fruit. Still, China kept talking on about their project, even though Russia himself was no longer listening or participating in the conversation. Why didn't China say or do anything in response to him? Was he that embarrassed? It seemed that Russia would have to go even further.

He placed a hand on China's knee, leaning in even closer to him, and smiled his gentlest smile. At this blatant display, China had to respond, and did. "Russia!" he said in surprise, whipping his head around. But when his chocolate eyes met Russia's violet ones, they held an unexpected emotion; anger. The smile slid off his face at the open dislike on China's face.

Surprised, Russia's limp hand slid off China's knee without resistance as the Asian boy stood up and took a step away. "What do you think you're doing?" China demanded. Russia looked up at him, bewildered.

"We are going to become one, _da_?" he said weakly. It was the only thing he could think of. China apparently wasn't impressed. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to gather himself before responding. When he opened them again, they had emptied of their fury but instead had become blank, emotionless orbs.

"We'll finish this some other time, _aru_," he said. He stooped to gather the papers he'd let drop to the floor when he'd stood. Russia watched him, unsure of what he was hearing. They were done for the day? Did he hear right? Was he being _dismissed_?

He stood in a daze, continuing to watch China stack their papers neatly on his desk and gather the tea things that had been left out. He just didn't understand how this could be happening, and so casually, too!

The next time China passed by close to him, Russia's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. He didn't really have any sort of plan, he just wanted to stop him from bustling around the room, trying to _understand_ what was happening, but China didn't see it that way.

"Hey! Let go of me!" He tried to slip his thin wrist out of Russia's grip, but he was too strong. Russia watched China continue struggling in his grasp with a distant, dispassionate feeling, as if he wasn't really there. He was lost in his thoughts.

Things were not going as planned. China was…_scared_ of him. That was clear to him now. But that's not how this was supposed to go! Russia wanted, maybe even needed, this boy, and he wouldn't go down without a fight. Through his body was the only way he knew of achieving it, so, in a last, desperate attempt, Russia pulled China closer and was about to press their lips together in a kiss. It was the only weapon left in his arsenal, so to speak, and he was willing to try anything because he could not accept defeat. And that's when he felt an unfamiliar sensation on his face.

Cold.

Stinging.

_Pain_.

China had slapped him smartly across the face and, stunned, Russia released the smaller boy. China immediately took a few steps back, rubbing his wrist and pouting while watching Russia carefully. Russia, for his part, was standing frozen in the middle of the room, unable to move or even think. After a few minutes, the tension and silence building in the dorm was broken as voices and footsteps sounded loudly just outside the door and the doorknob rattled. Germany had come home.

"Leave," China whispered, and Russia decided that, for once, to obey would be the best option. He found his schoolbag on the bed and made it to the door just as Germany opened it. Russia quickly walked by Germany and his cousin, Prussia, who stopped mid-sentence as he brushed past. He could almost feel their eyes on the back of his head as they stared after him all the way down the long hallway.

…

Russia walked into the school building with a new spring in his step the day after the Incident, as he was calling it. He was positively cheerful, and therefore barely even noticed the fear on the other boys' faces, and the lengths that they were going avoid him in the hallways.

He was in such a good mood for one reason, and one reason only; he was in love. After lying awake, tossing and turning all night, unable to think about anything other than China, love was the only conclusion he'd come up with. Instead of seducing China, he'd been the one whose interest had been piqued by the enigma of a boy who dared to defy him. So he had made China his goal for the year. Considering the way things went yesterday, it might take a little while, but he was prepared for the wait because he was dedicated to this, his first love.

On his way to his first class, he spotted long, dark hair pulled back in a ponytail some distance down the hall and smiled. _There he is_! He took off, weaving between a group of sophomores and breaking into a run as soon as there was open space. "China," he called as the bell rang. China glanced over his shoulder but quickly turned around. And…was it Russia's imagination, or had he started walking faster? Trying to catch him, he also sped up, and got the vague impression that he was bumping into people as he hurried through the crowd. But he didn't care. China was the only one he could see now.

* * *

**Everything I know about Chinese tea ceremony I learned from a website called and a youtube video, so I'm really sorry if I said anything that was just plain wrong. And if you know more about it than I do, then please correct me in a review or PM. I like learning cultural tidbits. : )**

**I again apologize for the long wait and the not-all-that-special chapter…seriously, it's ridiculous.**

**And am I the only one who thinks a stalkerish Russia is really cute? Yes? XD**


	10. A Deal Made in Hell : Canada

**Ahaha, shorter wait this time, just like I promised! (Though it could hardly get any longer than the wait last time…) Anyways, thanks to everyone who reviewed/favorited/followed after the last chapter! : )**

**Unfortunately, this is the least exciting chapter in the whole story, in my opinion…oh well. It's necessary.**

**Chapter Pairings: Mentions of America x England (one-sided)**

**10. A Deal Made in Hell (Canada)**

* * *

Canada wasn't exactly surprised that someone bumped into him in the hallway before class. It was a fairly common occurrence in his life. But he _was_ a little shocked to find himself thrown backwards with such force, considering it had felt like just a little tap against his chest and hadn't slowed the other guy down at all. But that's how it goes, being as small and invisible as he was.

The wind had been knocked out of him, so he waited, leaning against the wall he'd hit, for his breathing to return to normal. But the surprises that morning continued.

"America!" he heard from only a few feet away. He turned his head and saw England running in his direction. "America, are you alright!?"

"Uh…" Canada still couldn't speak as England knelt at his side, fussing over him like a worried mother. He laid a hand gingerly on Canada's shoulder, apparently tentatively trying to comfort him. However, when he spoke, his words were fierce.

"That _git_ Russia should watch where he's going, he's gonna hurt someone!" He shot a look down the hall after Russia, but he was long gone. He shook his head and turned back to Canada, saying much more gently, "But you're alright, right? You're…" He stopped speaking abruptly and pulled his hands away from Canada. "Oh, shit, you're…"

"Yeah," Canada agreed weakly. "I'm Canada." He'd been mistaken for his brother once again.

"Christ, I'm sorry, I thought-"

"It's okay. It's happened before."

"I really am sorry. But…you _are_ alright?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Canada tried to smile reassuringly but it came out more half-hearted than anything.

"Well, that's good."

They sat in a slightly awkward silence for a few seconds more. Canada wondered why England was still sitting here; didn't he have a class to go to? They were both going to be late as it was, why make things any worse for himself? Canada cleared his throat quietly, about to suggest they both go. "Well…"

"Ugh, I'm such an idiot!" England's voice overpowered Canada. England buried his face in his hands and sighed, and Canada felt his brow furrow. He sure was getting upset over a little mistake.

"Really, it's not a big d-deal…" Canada said. England looked at him, surprised, almost as though he'd forgotten Canada was still there. Then he shook his head.

"No, it's not that. No, just I can't believe I overreacted like that!"

"But you thought I was America…it was an honest mistake…"

"Even if you _were_ America I was way too concerned. But when I saw him…I mean, _you_, and I thought you might have been hurt, I completely lost my head."

"Oh." Canada didn't know how to reply to that and was hoping he could get away with just that. Luckily, England wasn't really waiting for him to answer.

"Anyways, I'm babbling now. Sorry." England turned his face away from Canada, his hair covering his eyes, but Canada could tell that something was wrong. The Brit was getting far too upset about this little incident for it really just to be a 'little incident'. So he swallowed and asked something he was surprised to hear himself say.

"Is something wrong, England? W-want to talk?"

England looked back up and stared at him for a few seconds, hesitation in his eyes before he shook his head and laughed. It sounded forced. "What? No, nothing's wrong. Come on, we're gonna be late for class if we don't go."

"We're already late," Canada pointed out quietly. It was true; the hall around them was completely empty. England glanced around and sighed.

"I guess you're right. Ah, shit." He leaned back against the wall next to Canada, apparently no longer concerned about getting to class. He didn't address Canada's question again, though, so he had to gather his courage and speak up again.

"Is it…m-my brother?" England remained silent. "Do you…" Canada felt himself blushing. "Do you li-like him?"

The silence extended for far too long and Canada began to worry that he was wrong and had totally embarrassed them both. "Uh, s-sorry! I didn't…didn't mean it like that, I," he stuttered, feeling flustered.

England took pity on him and cut him short. "No. You're right. I guess it's pretty obvious, huh?"

"Oh, well, I wouldn't say _obvious_…" Canada bit his lip.

"I'm pathetic," England groaned. "I'm sure everyone knows except _him_." He dropped his head forward and covered his face with his hands.

"Uh…" Canada was panicking, because he didn't know how to comfort England, who was beginning to sound miserable. When he got nervous he tended to stutter, and he didn't know what he could possibly say, in any case. So he tried patting England's shoulder very gently. He quickly withdrew his hand when England shot him a look, even though nothing on his face said that it was out of malice. England seemed to consider him for a moment before saying,

"You're really nothing like your brother, you know that?"

"Uh, thanks," Canada replied.

"Listen…" England hesitated. He looked down at his hands for a minute, and Canada began to wonder if he was ever going to finish his thought. Then he looked back at Canada, a new determination shining in his eyes. "Can you help me?"

"H-help you?"

"Get closer to America. I really want him to like me back, but I know that's impossible right now. So…would you be willing to help me out?"

"I-I dunno, that's…"

"Please? Look, I'm not very good at asking people favors, but I'm practically _begging_ here."

It was true. As far as Canada knew, England was usually a pretty tough guy, always yelling and arguing with people, especially America. So this unsure, kind, and even humble side of him was a complete surprise. He wondered if this was England's _true _personality, and if his usual act was just that; an act. And he also found himself questioning how a guy like England ended up falling in love with a guy like his brother. But he seemed serious about it, so…

"Okay. I'll do it." Canada finally agreed, though he felt as though he had been defeated as the words left his mouth.

"Thanks!" England clapped him on the back, almost sending him tumbling again. "Oh. Sorry."

"It's okay…" Canada finally stood up, brushing off his pants and straightening his navy-blue blazer. England followed him in getting up, smiling as he said,

"Anything I can do in return, you just tell me."

"Alright."

"Well…" England stretched his arms above his head and yawned. "Since we're missing class already, let's take a walk and you can start telling me what you know about America."

Canada hadn't really ever intended on skipping his first class. He'd planned on going to the infirmary and getting a note (the nurse knew him quite well; he was always getting hurt unintentionally by the other boys), then going to class late. So he tried to protest. "Uh, I don't think-"

"Great! Come on, I know a good way out of the building…" England took Canada by the elbow and began leading him off down the hall, completely ignoring Canada's objections.

_Is this really okay?_ Canada wondered, though it was a little late now. But he was beginning to feel guilt and doubt gnaw at his stomach because this was starting to seem like he was sneaking around behind his brother's back. But at the same time, England's eyes were lit up in a way Canada could never have imagined was possible. _Well… I'm sure Al will forgive me someday…_

_Right?_

* * *

**Like I said…rather boring. And England had to go a little out of character. So I apologize to all of you who just started following recently. xD But the next few should be really fun, so just wait a little bit!**

**Thanks for reading!**


	11. Winning! : Netherlands

**Okay, I know that '#winning' is kind of an old joke now, but at the time when I planned the story, it was a lot funnier, so I made the title of this chapter in reference to it. And now I couldn't get rid of it, just for sentimentality's sake. xD**

**Whenever I say 'football' in this chapter, I'm using it in the sense of 'soccer'. Assume this is always true unless otherwise stated from now on!**

**Chapter Pairings: None**

**11. Winning! (Netherlands)**

* * *

Netherlands had left his last class a few minutes early in order to get ready for this afternoon. He didn't cut class often, but today was a special occasion. It hadn't been difficult; he'd just ducked out of the room when the teacher was occupied. It wasn't exactly a tragedy anyways, considering it was just Calculus and he hated math. There were usually a lot better things to be doing.

But _today_ was different because he'd been planning and practicing for this day for months, since back home during the summer holiday. Today was the day he was going to challenge Spain to a one-on-one football match.

He and Spain had never exactly seen eye to eye, going all the way back to freshman year. Netherlands just openly disliked him from the start, and even the usually easy-going Spaniard made an exception when it came to his Dutch classmate. There hadn't really been one specific incident that had caused the mutual hatred, but it had built gradually as the two continually butted heads. Mainly on the football team. They were constantly getting into heated arguments on the field, especially since they'd been made co-captains by their coach last year, a much too soft-hearted man, in Netherlands' opinion. The problem was that Spain had always just been slightly better than him, and knowing that fact frustrated him to no end. But not today. No, he was ready today. He was going to win.

He was waiting on the expanse of grass in front of the school with a ball as the bell that signaled the day's end rang. Boys began walking out of the building in small groups, talking and laughing excitedly. It was a Friday afternoon and the upcoming Saturday was Halloween; everyone was a little more energetic than usual, especially the freshmen, many of whom would be experiencing their first Halloween in America. But Netherlands hardly spared a thought for the holiday as he spotted a familiar head of brown hair. Spain was walking with his best friend, Romano, and laughing hysterically while the Italian scowled.

"Hey! Spain!" Netherlands shouted. He watched as Spain slowed and turned to find who had called out to him. When he recognized Netherlands, his grin faded somewhat.

"Yeah?" he answered.

Netherlands jerked his head back and Spain obeyed, crossing the greens. Romano trailed behind him, looking slightly bored.

"What?" Spain asked, crossing his arms as he stopped a few feet from Netherlands.

"How about it?" Netherlands shifted his foot, drawing attention to the ground. Resting on the grass was Netherlands' own football. He picked it up and faced Spain slowly, bouncing it back and forth between his hands. "I was thinking one-on-one, right here, right now. What do you think?"

"What are the stakes?" Spain asked, slightly suspiciously.

"Nothing. Just some good, clean fun." Netherlands grinned, but he knew his eyes remained icy and cold. Just the way he liked it.

Spain stared him straight in the eye for a minute, and Netherlands looked back, completely unfazed. Eventually Spain nodded. "Sounds good to me," he said, though his voice didn't contain even a hint of its usual light-heartedness.

Spain dropped his bag onto the grass and shared a few words with Romano, who was looking at them with a touch of curiosity despite himself. Then he took off his blazer and tie, giving them to his Italian friend, and rolled up his sleeves. Netherlands did much the same thing, feeling excitement and tension build in his chest as he did so. He'd been waiting for this moment for quite some time, and it was finally here.

Even though they both had agreed that there were no stakes on this seemingly innocent game, they knew what this was about. It didn't have to be said aloud. Netherlands was ready to prove that he was better than Spain, and Spain was going to fight tooth and nail to defend that title. It was only a pride thing; but for these two boys, it was _everything_.

"So what are the rules?" Spain asked, cracking his knuckles and stretching his legs casually as he waited.

Netherlands looked at him distastefully as popping sounds continued coming from his joints, but he shook his head and said, "Simple. The goal is between those trees." He pointed to two small, decorative trees placed only a few feet apart. "We'll each get five opportunities on offense, and the one with the most points at the end wins."

"Seems fair."

Netherlands held out his hand and Spain shook it after a moment, a smile of grim determination on his face.

"Let's do it."

…

Netherlands was bent almost double, his hands on his knees and his breath coming in gasps. This little game had ended up being even fiercer than he'd anticipated. They'd both scored on four of their first five attempts, and had decided that it would be best to keep playing until one of them was able to break the tie. But they'd been matching each other round for round since then.

They'd been playing for almost an hour now, and the battle had gotten so heated that some of their classmates had taken notice and formed a small crowd, watching them. Netherlands had been really excited when he'd first seen a few of his friends there, cheering him on. It had fired him up. But now this group was beginning to get restless. Netherlands couldn't exactly blame them, since the length of this match had hardly been expected, and because of the fact that it was getting colder as it got later. He welcomed the cool breeze on his sweaty forehead, but he knew that the spectators would not be feeling the same way about it.

But he was hoping that he could end it here, once and for all. Spain had missed his last goal, meaning that if Netherlands could score now he'd be the winner.

They'd had to add some more rules as the game dragged on, trying to make it easier for someone to lose. They'd created boundaries to the sides, with the agreement that if the offensive player was forced out of bounds, it counted as a missed goal. They'd also drawn another imaginary line, and decided it was illegal to shoot a goal before one had crossed it. Obviously, these additions hadn't yet achieved the desired effect, but Netherlands was sure that it was time to prove what he himself already knew.

He straightened and walked up to the ball, sitting a couple feet in front of Spain, who was also breathing hard. Neither of them was playing as sharply as they had at the beginning, so Netherlands wasn't going to try any fancy tricks. This was a battle of basic skills now.

The outside of his right foot touched the football, pushing it towards his right. Spain immediately moved with him, putting his body in between the ball and goal and trying to force him to the outside. If the ball went out of bounds by any means, even if Spain kicked it out, it would count as a miss and they'd have to go another round. There was no way Netherlands was going to do that.

He let Spain lead him in that direction for a few steps before cutting sharply inside, turning up field. Spain, his reaction time slightly slower than it usually was, moved a second after he did. If Netherlands had tried something so simple early on in the game, Spain would easily have been able to cut him off and take the ball from him. But this time it was working, and he'd get his chance. Spain was falling behind him as they ran, due to his slightly later start. Netherlands would get a clean shot without interference from the Spaniard.

Looking to his left, he watched as he passed the line into the scoring zone, marked on both ends by a pile of discarded books, ties, hats, anything the spectators had been willing to part with for an hour or so. He passed between them; these monuments to the everyday life of the teenage boy; and he was in the clear.

He kicked the ball out a few feet in front of him and put on a burst of speed, leaving Spain even further behind. He planted his left foot firmly on the ground beside the ball and swung his right, trying to get as much contact between his right foot and the ball as possible. He was trying to regulate as best he could the direction and speed of the kick, but he was wearing his school shoes instead of his cleats, and he didn't have quite the control he was used to.

The ball didn't have far to travel, only ten feet or so, but as it veered slightly to the left of where he'd aimed, he felt his gut clench. _Shit, it's gonna miss_, he thought, disappointment flooding his stomach. To be honest, he just wanted this match to be over with. He'd been practicing during the summer, keeping in shape in anticipation for this game, but he'd never expected that it would go on for this long. He closed his eyes and began preparing himself for even more running and kicking and…

Then there was an audible intake of breath from the boys watching and Netherlands eyes flew open. He was just in time to see the ball hitting and bouncing off the leftmost 'goalpost', the young tree whose trunk was only a few inches around. But it was enough for the ball to hit and rebound off of, staying between the two trees before it finally hit the ground a few feet past them, rolling towards the school for a couple more seconds before finally coming to a rest.

There was a stunned sort of silence for a brief moment from everyone watching, including Netherlands and Spain. They were all staring at the two trees, which waved in the chilly October wind, and the ball a little beyond them. Then Netherlands turned and faced Spain, whose face was frozen in a look of mild shock. It took a moment for it to sink in, but when it did, Netherlands' face split into a huge grin. He punched the air with his fist. "Yes! Yes, I did it!" He laughed and whooped and celebrated for a minute, making quite a fool of himself and not caring a bit. Eventually he came back to himself, out of breath, but still excited, a lightness filling his chest. "Finally!" he whispered to himself.

_Finally_ he'd beaten Spain at his own game.

Spain smiled and took it well, shaking his hand and congratulating him, just as Netherlands knew he would. But inside, Netherlands knew that he was disappointed with himself, and that he was aware that this was a loss at something a lot more important than just a silly, afterschool game. This year, Netherlands was starting off as the best in the school, and everyone knew it, too.

The small crowd began to disperse now that the game was over, some heading straight back to the dorms to warm up, but a few hanging around a little longer. One of these was Netherlands' friend, Japan, who was approaching him now, a small smile on his calm face.

"That was a really good game, Netherlands. Congratulations on winning," he said, polite as always.

"Thanks," Netherlands said, still grinning idiotically and unable to stop. A few other kids who were friendly with either Netherlands or Spain walked over, congratulating Netherlands in most cases, and telling them both that it had been a great game. Netherlands loved the praise; it was the first time in four years that he hadn't just been 'second best' at football, and he was relishing the feeling. And he would never have said it aloud, but that disappointed, hurt look in Spain's eyes was…

_Wait_…_what_?

He'd glanced over at Spain once again as the thought had crossed his mind, and had _not_ been expecting what he saw. Instead of the gloomy, fake smile he'd anticipated (maybe even hoped for), Spain was talking excitedly with another student, England. The two of them, plus Romano and Canada, a strange group if there ever was one, were all discussing something that was apparently quite amusing. As he watched, Spain's eyes drifted in what looked like Netherlands' direction, before he turned back and whispered something to England with a huge grin on his face. The Brit nodded and Spain laughed.

Netherlands was confused. None of those three, England, Canada, or Romano, had said anything to him after the match. Which was fine, of course, he could hardly expect everyone to fall at his feet because of one little game, even if he and Canada were pretty good friends. But still…what were they doing talking to Spain like that? And why were they laughing so much? Were they laughing at _him_!?

For a moment he was mad. He was thoroughly convinced that they were talking about him, and that whatever they were saying wasn't good. It infuriated him to think about. But as Japan spoke up again, breaking his concentration on the small group, his spirits lifted somewhat. It didn't matter what they were talking about. Today he was victorious, and he was going to enjoy it. Spain would never ruin _that_ for him.

* * *

**I haven't played soccer in a long time, haha. Sorry! Anyways, my sister asked me to have Netherlands win in this matchup…as revenge for Spain's winning the World Cup in 2010. Any problems, take it up with her. XD**

**I'd never even considered how to write Netherlands before starting this… o.O I really don't know a lot about his character, so I hope I did okay! (And I'm a quarter Dutch, lol) And I apologize now… there will be another chapter from Neth's POV, and it only gets worse for him. Poor guy! I gave him one of the most depressing chapters in the whole story! I'm so mean! D :**

**…Oh well. XD**


	12. The Witching Hour Part 1 : England

**Hey guys. It's been awhile! But thanks to everyone who's reading right now! I love you guys! : D**

**Chapter Pairings: America x England (one-sided), mentions of Prussia x Canada**

**12. The Witching Hour Part 1 (England)**

* * *

England fastened his cloak under his chin and smirked at his reflection in the mirror. "Damn, I look good," he muttered, turning slightly so he could see himself better. He attempted to flatten his hair a little, but in vain.

Despite his confident words, however, he was feeling a bit anxious for tonight, the eve of his favorite holiday; Halloween.

Because this wouldn't just be a regular Halloween night. With any luck, the plans he, Canada, and a few others had made would help him get a little closer to America. And even if it didn't quite accomplish what he hoped, it was a good excuse to spend some time with him outside of school, and to show off some of his…hidden talents.

"Well _someone's_ looking especially sexy tonight, hm? Going on a hot date?" France, England's annoyingly pervy roommate, was leaning against a nearby wall, arms crossed. The little smile on his face and the sarcasm in his voice irritated England, and to make things worse, he felt himself begin to blush, embarrassed.

"Nobody asked you, _frog_," he growled, wishing that his cheeks weren't flaming red and knowing that, unfortunately, they were.

"Well if he dumps you, remember you'll always have me." He winked and walked away, laughing. God, that guy always knew just how to infuriate England. He'd been horrified when he'd found out they were roommates this year, but he'd been unable to get a new one, despite his continual begging. He swore that secretary had a personal grudge against him and refused to put his request through.

But he wasn't going to let France ruin his mood tonight. He'd felt, since he was very small, like Halloween had been _made_ for him, and he always made the best of the special evening. Of course he'd gone trick-or-treating when he was young, but that hadn't been the draw for him. Instead, it was the tradition and the legends of the real Halloween that he loved.

With another look in the mirror, he felt a twang of doubt. He hoped he wasn't going over the top with the cloak. It was made of a sturdy, dark green material and he kept it for practical use, not to make a fashion statement. Underneath it he was wearing completely normal clothes, black jeans and a blue button-down shirt, but he'd wanted to wear the cloak tonight. It always just got him in the right mood. _Not to mention…that_. He fingered the custom-made clasp, which housed a small, amber colored gem. This stone had belonged in his family for generations, and he strongly believed that it could aid him in channeling energy, which might prove useful tonight. He'd keep the cloak.

Finally tearing his gaze from his reflection, he left the room and then the dorm building, venturing out into the crisp, Halloween night. It was beginning to get dark, even though it was not very late. Children and parents roamed the neighborhoods surrounding the campus, but England hardly noticed them as he struck off down a quiet side street.

From this residential neighborhood he cut through a side yard or two and transitioned to a dirt path leading through a grove of trees (too small to really be called a forest). It was a little eerie in the dark under the trees, but it was only a short walk, and then he came upon his real destination; the South Church Cemetery.

Named after the nearby church, it was a large, beautiful cemetery, a few hundred years old and still going strong. He'd found the path that led from a street near the school to this graveyard back when he was a freshman, and he'd been coming here on walks ever since. He'd never been afraid of cemeteries, but rather, found them peaceful places, so he came whenever he needed to clear his mind.

But even though he wasn't _afraid_ as he walked through the dark, deserted graveyard, he did feel some sort of chilling energy in the air.

After a couple minutes of walking at a brisk pace, he left the paved path and cut across the well-maintained grass until he came upon a building in the middle of the cemetery. It was an old, abandoned church; not South Church, but the one that had been used before the current one had been built. It was no longer in use, and sat dark and empty. Most of the time. Tonight, there was a gentle flickering light shining through the stained glass windows. England smiled as he watched his plan coming together.

He made his way to a side door, which he'd discovered had a faulty lock back in sophomore year. It was already open a crack, so he slipped inside and into the main part of the church.

There was no furniture here except one low, round table that had been left in a corner but was now in the center of the floor, a few lit candles on its surface. Around this table, a few of England's friends and acquaintances were sitting, waiting for him, just like they'd said they would be.

Canada, who'd (rather unwillingly) given him the idea for this little get-together was there, looking even paler than usual in the candlelight. His boyfriend, Prussia, was laughing and whispering something in his ear. Spain and his friend Romano had also come, as well as China. And of course…America. England's chest tightened as America looked up and saw him.

"Dude! It's like, freaking creepy in here!" he called as England crossed the room towards the small group. He took a spot on the floor between America and Canada.

"That's kind of the point," England said to him before looking around at all their companions in turn once again.

They were all here for a reason, some more valid than others. Canada looked nervous; he knew what the plans were for tonight, having helped form them. Prussia had come for moral support for his lover, and was holding his hand tightly under the table. Next was Romano, who was frowning sourly, but that was just his usual expression. He'd just come along when he heard Spain was going, because he 'didn't have anything fucking better to do, anyways'. Spain had been essential to the plan, because he'd been the one to convince America, his roommate, to come with him to the graveyard. China had overheard England and Canada talking and had seemed excited, so they'd invited him as well. America, of course, was the only one who'd come to the church totally ignorant of the night's upcoming events.

England smiled after his eyes had passed over the whole circle. "I'm glad to see you've all come here tonight. Right now children are celebrating Halloween by begging candy from strangers; well, I've invited you here to show you what this night is _really_ about." He could feel the American on his right shift uncomfortably.

"Dude, wh-what does that mean?" he asked nervously.

"You'll see," England muttered impatiently. Then, to the entire group, he said, "I'm sure you've all heard the stories about what makes this night special. It is tonight, on All Hallows' Eve, that spirits can return to the world of the living for only a brief time."

"Spirits?" America breathed.

England ignored him as he continued with his explanation. "Many of the magical arts can be easily performed on any day, at any time. Things like reading the Tarot are relatively simple tasks because the prime conditions for doing them are so easily met. However-"

"Oh, can you do Tarot readings?" China asked from across the table. England glared at him, not wanting to be interrupted while he was in the middle of his speech.

"Yes, I can. Now, as I was saying-"

"Could you do one right now? I doubt it," Prussia interrupted loudly, smirking.

"Actually I _could_, but we've got other things planned for tonight," he said, his brow furrowing. This conversation was taking a turn in a direction he hadn't expected.

Now Spain spoke up, too. "But why not? It sounds fun!" There was a general murmur of agreement from everyone else in the circle.

"Guys!" England said, getting frustrated at his audience's short attention span. "Let's just get on with the original plan, yeah? We can do Tarot some other time."

He felt a tug on his cloak and turned to meet a pair of blue eyes sparkling behind their glasses. "Come on, England, please! I think it sounds like a good idea too. I wanna hear my future!"

"I…I mean…" England could feel his resolve weakening under that gaze. _Damn it. _When America begged like that he couldn't say no. His face felt a little hot as he looked away, muttering, "Fine, I'll do it." He cleared his throat and said more loudly, "But just one! I'll only do one reading tonight, for America. The rest of you can get in line." The others agreed grudgingly, with various degrees of discontent muttering. But none of them were as unhappy about it as England was.

Why he'd even _brought_ his Tarot cards with him here tonight he couldn't remember. It had just been out of habit, he supposed. He took them along like a good luck charm nearly everywhere he went, so he must have just grabbed them without even thinking about it. Now he pulled the well-worn deck out of his pocket with a sigh, resigned to do a very quick reading and get back to what he'd prepared for.

"America," he said as he began to look through his deck, making sure all the cards were facing the same way. "A reading is a very personal experience. If you want your friends to hear about your past, present, and future, that's your choice, but you don't have to."

"Ah, it's alright, they can stay."

"Okay." England looked up at everyone. "But you guys have to give us a little space, and be absolutely silent." The other boys all obeyed, scooching back a foot or so from the table without making a noise. They were all watching with a burning fascination, their eyes locked on the cards and their lips glued shut. But as England turned back to America, he completely forgot they were even there. It seemed like it could be just the two of them, alone.

"You have to pick the subject of your reading," he said. "Either a specific question or just a broad topic will do."

"Okay…so like, would romance be alright?"

England's heart nearly stopped and he almost dropped the cards in his hands. "Wh-what?" he stammered.

America blushed a little. "Oh, you know, like, who I'm gonna marry and that stuff."

England's cheeks flared red to match his friend's and his stomach churned. This was not going how he'd hoped. "Uh, wouldn't you rather hear about, like, money? Or about what university you'll go to?"

"Nah, that stuff's easy. But I'm kinda hopeless at love," America admitted, grinning sheepishly and rubbing the back of his head.

England swallowed past a lump in his throat and sighed. "Okay. It's your choice. Concentrate on your question, and shuffle this deck," He handed over the cards. He would do what America wanted, as uncomfortable as it made him to think about what the cards might say. But he would put all personal matters aside, because he took these arts very seriously and wouldn't allow his emotions to interfere. He took a deep, calming breath and continued.

"We're going to do a _very _simple pattern," he explained as America began shuffling the deck. It was important that the questioner understood what the reader was doing during the entire process, from start to finish. He always described every step as he went. "First, cut the deck, and give it back to me."

America did as he was told. As he took his cards back, England spared just a second to look at his face, and saw the eyes of a total believer. America wasn't doing this just to be funny, or half-heartedly; he was participating earnestly in the reading, which would make England's job a lot easier, even if he still didn't like the subject matter.

"We're doing just three cards; Past, Present, and Future," he said, laying three cards face down on the table between them as he said them. "And we'll begin with your past." Everyone in the room seemed to hold their breath and lean forward to see the first card as England turned it over.

The picture showed a person sitting upright in a bed, hands covering his face in fear or despair. Behind him, against the dark background, nine swords were laid horizontally one on top of the other. The card was facing America, so reversed from England's perspective.

"The Nine of Swords represents your past," he said quietly, knowing he had everyone's full attention. However, he was beginning to wish more and more fervently that he had insisted the reading be done in private. This could get very personal, even with just three cards. But he cleared his throat and kept going. "This card, when reversed as it is here, represents various negative emotions; suspicion, doubt, shame. Usually directed towards another person, and…usually with good reason. In this case, it would probably be representative of a past love that didn't go well."

He glanced up at America and saw that he was concentrating hard on the card on the table before them. He was frowning slightly, but nodding along with England's words, apparently agreeing. _He said he wasn't good with romance_, England reasoned. _Maybe he's had a bad experience. Well, better not dwell on it_. "Remember, though, that this is in the past. As for the present…"

He flipped over the middle card. This one showed a young man standing atop a cliff, the sun shining in the sky behind him. He grinned in relief to see a more positive card, not to mention the beautiful irony. "It's the Fool. Your present is represented by the Fool."

There was a gentle, muffled snickering among the onlookers, and America also gave a good-natured laugh and glanced over his shoulder at towards friends.

"It's not quite what it sounds like, though," England said after the chuckling had completely died away. "The Fool isn't stupid, but merely innocent and beginning on a journey. So basically what it means is that you are willing to embrace the unknown, and start anew. It's a chance for a fresh start, a new love. It's a good thing in this case, yeah?"

"I guess so," America agreed. He was definitely happier with this card than he had been with the last. England could only hope that the same would hold true with the pivotal Future card.

"And now let's find out what your future holds," he said, trying to sound casual but nervous as hell inside. He was afraid his voice was shaking, but if it was, nobody seemed to notice. They were all staring at the third card, still face down on the table. Carefully, England turned it over.

He revealed a picture of a man in armor astride a white horse, holding a golden cup in his hand. England stared at the image for several seconds, unable to believe what he was seeing, his heart beating furiously against his ribcage. Of all the cards in the deck, this was perhaps the one he was least expecting, and the one he was least prepared to explain to his waiting inquirer.

"What? What is it?" America asked, probably noticing the look of shock on England's face.

"It's, uh…it's called the Knight of Cups," he said slowly, trying to keep his voice sounding normal. He swallowed thickly before going on. "Court cards often represent people…so this could be someone you'll meet in the future, but it may also be someone you already know. And Knights are supposed to be young, usually single, men." He paused for a moment, waiting for a reaction but not daring to look up at America. There wasn't a sound in the entire church besides his pulse pounding in his ears, so he went on. "This particular knight represents men with blonde or sometimes light brown hair, and eyes that are either blue or…uh, green."

He didn't know what else he could say into the silence that followed his statement. He didn't want to assume that the card represented _him_, but he couldn't help but think it. Surely America would see it too. Had he just made his relationship with America really awkward because of this stupid reading he'd been forced into? He waited for a response with a nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"So…" America said after a moment. "My romantic future involves some blonde guy?"

England nodded, still not looking directly at him.

There was a few more seconds of silence, and then a burst of laughter exploded from America's lips. The sound surprised England into looking up at him, shock probably plain on his face. "Sounds like it'll be quite the experience!" America said, still giggling uncontrollably. The other boys joined in his revelry after a few seconds, nervously at first, since they all knew how England liked America and had probably interpreted the card the same way the Brit had. But the laughter relieved the tension that had filled the room just a moment ago, and even England had to smile weakly at how they were all carrying on.

Eventually America wiped imaginary tears of mirth from under his glasses and heaved a huge sigh. "Ah, well. Some things are better left as mysteries. I guess I'd rather _not_ know how this guy's gonna play a role in my future, am I right?" He grinned at England, totally oblivious that anything weird might have just passed between them.

_God he's so stupid_, England couldn't help thinking, but his heart pounded at America's adorable, blissful naïveté. He was enormously relieved, in any case. He'd found out some interesting information about America's future (though he tried not to make assumptions; that would be unprofessional) and America hadn't suspected anything. He was glad of that.

After a minute or two the whole group reconvened around the table, a little more relaxed and at ease with each other. It had been a necessary release of tension, considering what an odd collection of people they were. Everybody settled back down in their places and slowly the talk and laughter died away and the attention of everyone in the room was drawn back to England. They looked expectant and, in some cases, skeptical or fearful. America was the only one who looked confused, still being the sole person ignorant of what was about to happen.

"Uh…" America said after a minute. "Why _are_ we all here? Really?"

England shot him a devilish grin, his eyes gleaming. "We're going to have a séance."

* * *

**Technically this town is fictional, but…it's heavily based on my hometown. xD**

**Research for anything involving Tarot came from the books I have lying around the house (uh…no need to ask…? xD) so I know it's imperfect. I'm VERY much an amateur. Sorry. So if you're an expert, and I said something horrifyingly wrong, let me know. If I said something only slightly off, please just shake your head and let me go on my merry way. xD**


End file.
